


Temperance Of The Air

by MilkTeaMiku



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Everybody Lives, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Modern Era, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 21:32:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 40,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5601850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilkTeaMiku/pseuds/MilkTeaMiku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo would laugh, and his voice would fill the void that festered in those who'd lived past the age of innocence with solace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Solace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At four years of age, Bilbo Baggins met Thorin Oakenshield.

Belladonna was quite proud of her son. He was polite and kind and had the most adorable chubby cheeks she'd ever seen. However biased, she believed that her baby was the best baby in the world, and as such he only deserved the best. 

Bilbo was four years old, and just like her, he had a powerful adventurous streak. She admired him for it, and seeing him filled with a smile that was so much like her own made her heart swell with a warmth like it had never done before. He was such a courageous little boy, one with a golden heart a mile wide and no sense for the cruelness that some people were capable of harbouring. He believed the best in people with no questions asked and no hesitation, and wasn't afraid of affection or strangers or scary expressions. Rather, he'd laugh, and fill the void that festered in those who'd lived past the age of innocence with solace.

She hoped he'd always stay that way, but she knew it was wishful thinking.

It was expected that Bilbo was a social butterfly with his exuberant character. Both adults and children alike were comfortable in his presence, despite any shy tendencies they might have. He was capable of making friends with anyone and everyone, it seemed. Bilbo himself didn't have a preference in who he played with, so long as their attention remained on him for as long as he was interested. He was always cheerful and imaginative, and could make a whole world out of nothing but toy blocks, colourful crayons and an attentive partner.

To Belladonna, it was no shock that Bilbo sought out the strangest of children to befriend. He had her adventurous side, and she believed that Bilbo could sense who would offer him a view of the world unlike any other. She sometimes thought that maybe she should encourage him towards the children who were more like Bilbo himself, the ones who were outgoing and friendly and loud, but she didn't want to curb his desires. She believed that he would make the best choices for himself, and that he could learn from any mistakes along the way. What else could she believe in, if not her own child? She told herself not to worry too much - her precious child was, after all, still only just a child. She had no doubt in her mind that any mistakes he made would be transformed into a lesson learned, rather than a bad memory. 

Bilbo made many friends at day care, but the most prominent child Belladonna caught him interacting with was a little boy, no older than Bilbo himself, called Thorin Oakenshield. It was a big, strong name for such a young child, but she thought that Thorin would grow into it, that the name would mature as he aged and learned of the world for himself. 

Thorin was a very quiet child. Even rounded with youth, he seemed to have hard features, like he wasn't allowed to be happy, or rather that he was holding back. He was respectful to the point of coldness, beyond politeness, and didn't smile. At times it looked like he might have wanted to, or felt like it was the right expression, but it faded away before it could properly form. He always donned a flustered and taken back expression when Bilbo chose to play with him, which was quite often, like he couldn't believe someone could smile the way Bilbo did. He looked quite affronted, in fact, that anyone would smile in such a carefree way! 

After Belladonna became a mother, she developed a sense for the whims of children. In her own child she could see a bright future, full of adventures and mischief and smiles. In Thorin, she saw something bleaker. He needed nurturing, and she wasn’t sure it was being provided in the tailored way Thorin required. Of course, there were many factors that determined how a child grew up - parenting influences, media, school and money - but the most important of all was how deeply the child understood themselves, and how soon in life they began to understand how their hearts and their minds worked. She could see that Thorin would struggle with that, would need a firm guiding hand or two to lead him down the path he was destined to go. 

Maybe Bilbo could do that.

But it filled her with worry. She never wished for her son to be hurt, or to hurt - because those were two very different things, just like how being alone and being lonely were different. It was an inevitable prospect, one that was bound to happen no matter how hard she wished to protect her child. She knew that Bilbo had his head in the clouds, and that those who lived amongst the stars always struggled the most on the ground, but she believed in him. 

And if Bilbo believed in Thorin, then she did too.

Thorin was always very silent, but around Bilbo he spoke a little more freely. He was bigger than Bilbo, taller by a handful of inches and broader in the shoulders. He was built much stronger than Bilbo would ever be, and would undoubtedly grow into quite the handsome man one day. For now, though, he remained an awkward child, one who looked lost in the eyes and a little confused by kindness.

Bilbo didn't mind those things about Thorin. He followed Thorin around like a ghost, and loved to hold Thorin's hand - not because Thorin needed it, but because Bilbo seemed to enjoy it. Belladonna had seen her child sharing toys with Thorin easily, passing him blocks to place on in-progress towers and giving Thorin a doll to hold while Bilbo fawned over a dollhouse and he always made sure Thorin had an equal amount of time on the swing set that Bilbo himself had had. It was a very kind thing for her son to do, and he was very persistent at it. 

Eventually Belladonna met Thorin's mother. Her name was Vis, and much like Thorin she seemed to have a hardened expression and a sense of responsibility that pressed down insistently on her shoulders. Belladonna admittedly wasn't as good at reading adults as she was at reading children, but when she spoke to Vis she got the sense that the woman was very soft at heart. 

"Bilbo is very cute." Vis had told her. She spoke in a gentle voice, as though she was uncertain whether Belladonna wanted her son referred to that way. Belladonna wondered how many mothers Vis had met through Thorin, and thought that it might not have been as many as she would have liked. "My Thorin likes to play with him."

Belladonna smiled fluidly. Praise always made her puff up proudly - she was very susceptible to it - and even more so if it was directed at her pride and joy. "I think Bilbo likes him too." She had said. "They get along well."

Vis seemed reassured at that. Her expression broke with relief, and the tension in her brow smoothed out. Belladonna thought she might have been scared for her child, too, that he wouldn't make friends well. It was something Belladonna could sympathise with, though she understood Vis's concerns were far different to her own. 

"They'll be fast friends." She said, touching Vis on the shoulder. She felt an urge comfort this woman who seemed so burdened by the world. "Bilbo has taken a liking to him."

Vis nodded, and let her eyes drift over to their children once more. Bilbo was laughing, dimples indenting his reddened cheeks, his tiny hand clutched around a ball that Thorin had rolled along the floor to him. Thorin had a crease in his brow, and his blue eyes were puzzled. It was like he couldn't fathom how Bilbo was so entertained by a rolling ball, but Belladonna knew it was more than that. It wasn't just the simple movement of the ball that entertained Bilbo - if he'd wanted to play that way, then he'd throw the ball, or kick it around so that he could chase it. No, this was something born from a childish need for a connection. Bilbo rolled the ball out like he was sending a wide reaching message, hoping for it to be returned. And it was, the ball came back to him, propelled by Thorin's willing hands. 

At four years of age, Bilbo Baggins met Thorin Oakenshield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a year of consistent writing, I found myself unable to completely stop, so I'm just gonna keep going! This will be different to my _Year Of Writing_ series, so it's a new challenge ^^"


	2. Soothe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At five years of age, Bilbo Baggins made Thorin Oakenshield smile for the first time.

The first time Bilbo had a nightmare that he didn't tell Belladonna about, she knew. She'd always wondered what he dreamed about, and she knew that if she asked that he'd tell her. Her child was born to please, and derived happiness from the act of bringing a smile to others as though nothing could ever make him feel any better. 

"Mama, can I sleep in your bed tonight?"

"Did you have a nightmare?" She'd asked, even as she lifted the corner of the crumpled quilt thrown across the bed she shared with her adoring husband to welcome her child in. That night wasn't the first time the little boy had come to her or Bungo seeking a soothing touch, and she doubted it would be the last for a few years yet. While she was careful not to allow Bilbo too much time outside of his room during the night, she knew that sometimes a child needed comfort more than tough love and a routine. Sometimes Bilbo would seek out his Father for that, and other times he would come to her. She'd never turn him away. 

Bilbo made a small noise, something high and gentle, and shook his head. "No." He'd told her.

She knew it wasn't true. Bilbo, her shining child, had a shaken look in his eyes. He would soon forget whatever it was that plagued his dreams, but for now he sought unwavering comfort to ease his burdened mind. Absently, she brushed away an errant curl that had fallen across her face. Bilbo's own hair, she noted, was its usual tousled mess. He'd inherited hair more like his father's than her own - looser curls that were easily messed up by sleep and wind, but easy to tame with a steady hand and a hairbrush built for thick hair. 

For that night, she allowed him to press against her chest and grip a small fistful of her nightgown. She pretended not to notice, and closed her eyes to feign sleep. It lured Bilbo into doing the same, though she didn't allow herself to drift into the world of dreams until Bilbo's breath had evened out and his grip on her nightgown had lessened. For a moment, she allowed herself to watch him. She counted all ten of his small fingers, and found herself tracing a soft line down the curve of his nose like she used to when he was just a tiny baby, too small to open his eyes to the world waiting for him. Back then, she'd been afraid to have him out of her arms, because he was such a small thing in a world full of pain and cruelness and misfortune. She'd relied so heavily on Bungo to ease her out of such a protective state that she felt like she'd never be able to repay him. Every day she thanked him for being with her, for giving her such a perfect, kind child. She'd give them the world, if she could.

But she could not.

Instead, she'd do the next best thing, and show them. 

Bilbo's adventurous nature was always prominent when they went on trips. He marvelled at all the blooming flowers at the Botanical Gardens, and was silent with awe as he took in the view of the city from a ferry on the harbour. Belladonna would never forget the expression he made when they visited a beach on an overcast day. Even though the clouds were dark, and the swell was moving from a lull into something more animated, Bilbo had smiled. His eyes reflected both the ocean and the endless world of opportunities spread out before him, as he stood with his toes wiggled into the damp sand and his pant legs rolled up to stay dry. It was as though the world couldn't help but reach out to him, and even the wind had brushed its fingers across his face and through his hair. 

One day, Belladonna took him to the aquarium. For Bilbo's sake, she invited Thorin. Maybe it was for Vis's sake, too, because the strong woman with the sad eyes had had a second child, a beautiful boy named Frerin. She deserved a rest, deserved time to be quiet and down and whatever else she needed to be. 

Bilbo loved the aquarium. He shepherded Thorin from display to display, and didn't hesitate to press his palms against the glass like he could feel the water through the barrier coating his fingertips. He loved to wander through the tunnel built through a tank, where he could freely stare at the sea creatures that swam around him on all sides. He smiled very brightly, that day. 

Belladonna thought that, by far, Bilbo liked the simpler displays. In a darkened room that was lit by nothing by the faint blue glow of the sun through the tops of the distant tanks, Belladonna found the children silent. A glass wall that was so tall she had to crane her neck back to see the top stood before them at the end of the spacious room, but Bilbo didn't seem intimidated by its size. Rather, when she found him, he stood by himself right in front of it. His little shape was silhouetted by the light, and his eyes shined.

Thorin stood a ways away. He had a hand clenched to his chest, and unlike Bilbo he didn't look up. Instead, his eyes were fixed on the ground. When Belladonna moved to stand beside him, he seemed to shrink even further into the shadows, like the friend that stood before them was too far out of reach to ever be contacted again.

"Go stand with him." She said, and even as Thorin's searching eyes turned to her she only smiled. "Go on."

When they stood together, she could easily see the difference in height they shared. Thorin would surely be so much taller when he grew, if only he could lift his eyes from the ground. As he took small steps forwards, the light washed over him, and his features were washed into a silhouetted darkness just as Bilbo's were. 

Even in a state of awe, Bilbo noticed him. "Thorin," Bilbo said. His voice was high and soft and gentle, and unlike anything Belladonna had ever heard come from him before. "Thorin, they're soaring."

Fish swam in slow schools through the blue water. They weren't exotic fish, or any sort of interesting sea creature. No, they were simple, and of moderate size and shape. The tank itself was bare, as if reflecting the nature of the fish. As Belladonna took it in, she made a conscious effort to see it from Bilbo's point of view. She tried to see the world as he did, and when her eyes adjusted to such a view...

It really did look like such simple fish were soaring through the air above their heads in a fantastic, luminescent dance. 

Oh, how Bilbo had smiled. 

Belladonna had a chance to see so many new things that day, but it filled her heart with strange feelings. As Bilbo had run wild through the gift shop - he'd been allowed one gift, as a memory - Thorin had looked on with a forlorn expression.

"You, too." Belladonna encouraged. 

Bilbo had returned to her brandishing a plush seal that seemed to have a smile sewn into its face. It was white and covered in soft fur. When Thorin had tentatively shown her the gift he'd picked, he looked as though he feared something. Rejection, maybe, or punishment for wanting something. Settled in his hands had been a small keychain, of which a little fish was attached to. 

"Are you sure you don't want anything else?" Belladonna had asked. She crouched down to Thorin's height, and tried to smile as warmly as she could. 

Thorin shook his head, and held the keychain close. "Can I... Can..."

She remained silent as Thorin struggled with words, desperately hoping that he would speak. Only after Thorin had glanced at Bilbo and received a childish grin did he seem to muster up the courage to be able to form words. 

"Can I get something for Mama, too?"

In the end, they picked out Vis a teacup with the aquarium logo and a picture of a stingray from the displays they'd seen earlier printed on the side. Thorin had been the one to pick out the present, and although Belladonna wondered why he hadn't picked her something different, she didn't ask. Bilbo did, though.

"My Mama, she likes butterflies." Thorin had told Bilbo. "This is like a sea butterfly, right?"

Vis had smiled so widely when Thorin had handed her the gift when Belladonna took him home. As Thorin took Bilbo upstairs to meet Frerin, Vis's eyes had filled with water, and Belladonna was struck with the urge to comfort her in the same way she did when Bilbo had a nightmare. 

"I'll pay you back." Vis said. She bit her lip harshly, and her hands wobbled around the teacup. She looked exhausted. 

"Don't." Belladonna said. "This makes me happy." 

She didn't know if happy was the right emotion, because what she had felt was indescribable. But Vis seemed to understand, and she nodded without complaint. A strand of her dark hair fell across her eyes, and she insistently brushed it back. The motion had startled Belladonna, because she felt a spark of something familiar in it. Like herself, Vis was a mother, and she lived with the emotions that having a child carried. While Belladonna only had the one child, she felt like she could understand Vis a little more deeply after seeing such a humble gesture from her. 

Bilbo slept with that seal in his bed every night without fail. Belladonna would stand at his door and watch him sleep, and wonder how many more years she had of this domesticity before Bilbo would declare he was too old to sleep with stuffed animals. Somehow, it didn't seem so bad that he was growing up anymore, and just for a moment she felt at peace with the passage of time and the burden of age that was irrevocably placed on them all. 

At five years of age, Bilbo Baggins made Thorin Oakenshield smile for the first time.


	3. Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At six years of age, Bilbo Baggins taught Thorin Oakenshield what it was like to imagine.

Bilbo adored fairy tales. Belladonna didn't know what it was about the tales in particular, but her son always smiled to himself as though he were sharing a secret thought when Belladonna or Bungo read him a story. There as something about them that undeniably attracted his interest, and she thought it probably had something to do with the innocent way Bilbo saw the world. He always ran his fingers over the pictures in the books, and lingered on the pages with magic. 

Belladonna supposed Bilbo's interest was also because he himself was always filled with imagination. He loved to run about their house brandishing imaginary swords and fighting off his stuffed animals - never the seal, she noticed, as the seal was always given the role of being the damsel in distress. It was a marvellous thing to watch, to see his face light up with wonder and bravery and courage. Imagination was something that became limitless, was the entire expanse of the sky when the ground would simply not do, when the world was too solid and down to create anything wondrous. Imagination had the will to take one's mind anywhere, so long as they chose to follow it, to embrace it. Imagination like that, the kind that brandished foes to vanquish and precious friends to rescue and a sky that stretched on forever... Imagination that made fish soar, too, was a boundless source of energy, a living cell of nonsense that was to be cherished and nurtured and never turned away. 

If anyone in the entire world had eyes to see beyond the horizon, Belladonna thought that it might be Bilbo. Not only because he was her beloved child, but because he saw the world through eyes unlike any other and she recognised that. He was a burst of sunshine after a storm, and the gentle sound of birds waking in the morning. He was the smell of clean air, and the ravenous ocean on a cloudy day. He was her child, and he was never dull. He willingly flew head-first into the clouds, and wasn't afraid to wish on anything he happened to glance at up there. 

But Belladonna knew that little boys who wished on stars didn't last long on the ground.

So she became his tether. Although it may seem cruel, she was careful to keep him focused on the real world, so that when he entered it his boundless energy didn't go flying away to places of the past. 

Thorin was the opposite. Although he had learned to smile, it didn't quite reach his eyes. Belladonna knew that it was human nature to imagine the things one desired, but Thorin seemed to fear that. He shied away from emotions of wanting, and never seemed to allow himself a glimpse at a happier time. He seemed unable to gather the will to create something, and had no B Plan if this Thorin should ever happen to fail. Big things could be started by the smallest of sparks - a will to create a home could flourish into a city where hundreds of thousands of people went through the motions of life. Without that spark, however, there would be nowhere to go, and Thorin deserved to see the world from its highest point, so that he could know it was all spread out before him, free to touch and feel and experience. She despaired that she could never be the one to take him there. She knew she was too old, too submersed in reality to ever involve herself in that place again.

But Bilbo could.

So if he needed helped building a fort out of boxes and upturned chairs, she would fetch the blankets. If he needed help making swords out of toilet paper rolls stacked together, she would tape them into place. If he wanted to believe in pixie dust and flying pirate ships and glass slippers, then so would she.

One night, when Thorin slept over - not for the first time - it rained heavily. Water ran down the window panes in distracting rivets, like the house was being fully submerged in the ocean. Bilbo didn't shy away from storms, never had, and that was because of Bungo. When Bilbo was just a babe, Bungo would wrap him warmly and take him out onto the porch where it was dry and safe from the weather to watch the storms. Together, they'd scream as loud as the thunder and laugh as the lightning cackled through the distant clouds. Bilbo was desensitised to storms, now, and although he didn't remember how he had become so, Bungo and Belladonna did.

That night, during the afternoon before dinner, the two children played together. Bilbo had his seal tucked under one arm, and a sailor's hat slanted across his head. He ran circles around the lounge room with Thorin in tow, and imagined it to be a completely different world. The storm made Thorin apprehensive, but he as drawn to Bilbo's world as if gravity was created to keep them suspended in a place better than the world they were in. 

"The clouds are crying, Thorin." Bilbo had said, as Belladonna listened from the kitchen. "But they're not sad."

Even as the storm raged outside, they were oblivious. When a particularly loud crack of thunder rattled the windows, and the lights flickered out into nothingness, their play was seemingly disrupted. But even darkness can't stop imagination, and so the world continued to spin. Belladonna found them each a torch, and set them up with a new game - they waited in Bilbo's room while she hid the plush seal, and then it was their job to search every darkened corner of the house to find him. Even if she was no longer capable of imagining like children did, she felt like this was something she could do. For a moment, she wondered if it was all she could do, and that made time seem to slow for a moment. Her precious child was growing, and would soon forget about worlds where fish flew and clouds cried, but as a mother time couldn't be stopped for anything, as there was something that always needed tending to.

"Mi-Miss Baggins..."

She'd told Thorin to call her Bella, like everyone else did, but he seemed unable to form such casual words. He was still a quiet child, but the quietness wasn't due to shyness. No, it was forlorn. It made her heart ache, because she knew no amount of imagination could heal a wound like that. Not even a magic kiss.

"Can I... Can I ring my Ma?" Thorin asked. His brows were a little furrowed, and the corners of his lips were beginning to twist down. "I want to make sure her and Frer are alright."

Belladonna had dialled Vis's number and handed over her mobile without hesitation. Her heart raced as Thorin clutched the phone with two trembling hands and brought it to his ear. The frown in his brow creased, but then suddenly it disappeared as relief washed over his face in the same way the tide was pulled across the shoreline by the force of the moon. 

Vis was fine, she knew. The baby too. Belladonna often thought about Vis, although she saw her regularly enough. The weight on her shoulders seemed to be lessening, just a little, now that Thorin was confident enough to leave her side and know that he would always be welcomed back with wide open arms. Vis relished the time she was able to look after Bilbo, too, Belladonna could see it in her eyes. She wondered how her child couldn't sense Vis's pain, the anguish that lingered under a surface that was all too thin.

Maybe, in the same way that Belladonna couldn't understand children, Bilbo couldn't understand adults.

But he always hugged Vis anyway, when he left her home. He would farewell Frerin first, then Thorin, who he was always childishly affectionate with. Somehow, he left Vis to last, every time, like he had been saving up the energy to hug her gently, but with all his might. And he'd smile, always, always warmly and openly, the kind of smile that asked for something more. Something that didn't need words to be used as a means of explanation. 

Not even Belladonna could understand what he was asking for. Forgiveness, she once thought, even though he had nothing to be forgiven for. Acceptance, as well, though maybe not on Bilbo's own behalf. For someone else's sake, someone who was precious to him.

At six years of age, Bilbo Baggins taught Thorin Oakenshield what it was like to imagine.


	4. Sufferance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At seven years of age, Bilbo Baggins taught Thorin Oakenshield the value of patience.

In his enthusiasm, Bilbo often unintentionally swept up the people around him. It was an inevitable factor of life, to be so drawn to people who exuded brilliant smiles and careful touches, like Bilbo did. He offered an escape from harder, more punishing things, and didn't care who joined him in his world of make-believe and magic and childish wonder. He was exuberant, and fulfilling. Belladonna loved him more than anything. Through him, she thought the world might have been a better place. 

As Bilbo grew and his sphere of influence expanded, Belladonna started to notice just how much he affected others. He had the capability to change moods, and his ever present enthusiasm had an infectious way of fusing onto others without warning. He gained happiness from childish things, from simple things, and gifted that to others without properly realising so. And while Belladonna thought it was a wonderful thing, she also thought that it was a reckless thing, an overflowing thing. At times she could see her son was tired - a different kind of tired that didn't come from a lack of sleep. As he aged, so did his heart, and she feared it was becoming weary before it had fully grown. 

She recognised Bilbo's qualities in Thorin, at times. It was a common phenomenon, something that she saw in a lot of people. Borrowed quirks and little sayings and subtle gestures, they were transferred from person to person without any thought given to the action, because it was so normal. Belladonna herself had gained things from Bungo - his habit of playing with the hem of his sweater when nervous, for example. She thinks he might have picked up her habit of tucking stray locks of hair behind an ear with her pinkie lifted. From somewhere that had become nothing more than a distant but fondly remembered memory, they had both learned to fluidly use the nickname "darling". It was to be expected, as such, that children were the most avid borrowers of these small quirks. Children were impressionable, after all. One had to be careful around them for that exact reason. 

With age, Thorin seemed to smile more. His face was growing, maturing - but his gestures, the small quirks in his features, they were becoming more childish. While he didn't seem to recognise smiles when they were his own, they were nevertheless there, for all to see. Belladonna thought he had a strange smile, one that still didn't reach his eyes, one that was pulled from a lingering place of loneliness. Thorin was still a troubled child, burdened by something Belladonna was completely unable to place. It would take time for him to flourish, for him to bloom, but she knew that even the slowest of flowers were still beautiful. 

Nights when she was restless and her head was filled with thoughts, her mind often strayed to her child and the influence he had. She thought his enthusiasm was strange, and she felt like she didn't quite recognise what it truly was. For a long time, it filled her with a sense of longing to understand and an unease at being unable to do so. Every day she hoped she would be able to better see the person Bilbo was becoming, but with each passing interaction, even more so with the ones she was unable to witness, she felt like he drifted away. She dreamed, once, that Bilbo was like a balloon. She vainly held onto the thin string attached to his wrist, but it was an action that was in vain. Bilbo seemed destined to be pulled into the clouds, in that dream, to a place where she was too old to comprehend. To think that one day her child could reach a place she was forbidden from touching... It filled her with unimaginable sadness. 

She believed that many things she feared in life were centred on Bilbo. Bungo too, but to a lesser extent, because he was mature and reasonable and gentle-hearted and safe. Bilbo was- to her, he was effortlessly vulnerable, still untarnished by a cruel test of the world. However imaginative and enthusiastic he was, there was no momentum strong enough in any single person that could stop the force of misfortune from striking. She only hoped she was there when it happened, so that he didn't disappear into the clouds and live among the stars forever. 

Much in the same way Thorin often came over to visit Bilbo, he was visited by Bilbo in return. Frerin was getting older now, so having noise in the house wasn't as disruptive as it once had been. Vis seemed glad to have them at her own home, rather than at Belladonna's, so that it gave her a break. Belladonna appreciated the down time, and was always satisfied with the way Vis seemed after having such enthusiastic children in her home. She was a woman suited to motherhood deep down, but it didn't seem to come naturally, not always. When it did, however, she flourished, just like a late-blooming flower. Belladonna wondered if she'd have any more children, but she appeared content with her two boys. 

During that day, when Bilbo visited Thorin, it seemed like the world stopped spinning.

"I think it's broken." Vis said through the phone. Her voice was breathy, and a little wobbly. "We're at the medical centre now. Please come."

Bilbo had fallen off the swing set, and for a moment Belladonna's heart throbbed. Her precious child was injured, was probably a little scared, was shocked - and she wasn't there. For the first time since those few months after Bilbo had been born, she felt like a failure as a mother. She couldn't protect her child from the pain of breaking a limb, and couldn't shelter him from the fright of uncertainty. 

Vis was in tears when Belladonna rushed through the front doors of the medical centre, her sweater half pulled on and her hair a mess. Belladonna wasn't angry at her, despite feeling as though she should be. Children were not indestructible, and she had no doubt in her mind that the fall had been nothing but an accident. Regardless, Vis looked like she was about to faint, and the dark circles under her eyes were only deepening. Her cheeks and nose were red, and the collar of her shirt was discoloured with water that dripped off her chin. 

"Is he alright?"

"The x-rays are going to come back soon." Vis said. She seemed to shrink into her shoulders, and the longer Belladonna went without scolding her, the more it worsened. "Thorin is with him."

Hearing that made the tightening in Belladonna's chest ease. She knew this was something she had to endure, so she took a deep, steading breath and soothed herself into patience. 

Bilbo had gripped her hand so tightly as a doctor came to explain the x-rays to them. The bone in Bilbo's wrist was indeed broken, but it was a clean break. A cast was needed, but there would be a delay for the nurse who would create it, only for a little while. Bilbo was given the bed he was sitting on to wait in, and the curtains were pulled closed. He shivered a little under Belladonna's careful touch, holding his arm close, so Belladonna left him alone with Thorin to wait outside for a nurse to bring them a blanket.

"I'm so sorry." Vis told her. She struggled to meet Belladonna's eyes, but Belladonna didn't acknowledge her apology until she had. "It's my-"

"It happens." Belladonna said. "It's not your fault." 

Vis let out a harsh exhale, and her eyes became fixed to the floor. Belladonna was afraid that if she looked at Vis for too long, she'd see someone who was crumbling. Quietly, a nurse passed them, and handed Vis the blanket she carried. Belladonna turned her head back for a moment to look back into the room. Bilbo sat upright on the bed, with his hand placed on top of Thorin's head. He was saying something quietly, and his eyes were gentle. Thorin looked distraught. 

"How did it happen?" Belladonna asked absently. 

"He was on the swing set, with Thorin." Vis murmured. "They were taking turns pushing each other, but never too high. They'd been doing it for ages, but I think they got a little enthusiastic, and Bilbo went a little too high. When he came back down, Thorin knocked into him, and he fell. It wasn't far, but..."

Belladonna nodded. She was thankful that Vis placed the blame on neither of the children. It was just an accident, after all. Enthusiasm, as it was, wasn't the same as excitement. Belladonna understood that both Thorin and Bilbo had been excited to play on the swings, but they were enthusiastic about doing it together. 

Vis's eyes wavered and her shoulders shook as she clenched her hands tighter in the blanket provided by the hospital staff. "It was like... he had his hand outstretched, like he wanted to touch the sky." She said. Her voice wavered, and she swallowed. "For a moment, I was so scared he would just... drift away."

Fear swallowed Belladonna's heart whole. She pursed her lips to stop all the oxygen in her lungs from escaping, and closed her eyes. 

"I'm going to go get something to drink. Would you like anything?"

Belladonna made a vague comment about water, and watched through distant eyes as Vis handed her the blanket and left. She turned back to face the waiting room, and edged inside, waiting until she could hear her child's voice.

"Don't be sad, Thorin." He said, rubbing Thorin's head the same way Belladonna did to him when he was upset. "It wasn't your fault."

"It was." Thorin said. His face was twisted, and he was gripping the edge of the bed tight enough to turn his knuckles a ghostly white. "I hurt you."

Bilbo seemed lost for words in that moment.

"Please be my friend still." Thorin whispered. "You're the only friend I have."

Bilbo's eyes widened. A small dip appeared in his brows, but it was quickly smoothed out. "We've just got to be more patient next time, right?" He waited until Thorin looked up at him with increasingly wet eyes before smiling brighter than the sun. "Please push me against next time!" 

For Bilbo, there would always be a "next time". 

At seven years of age, Bilbo Baggins taught Thorin Oakenshield the value of patience.


	5. Supine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At eight years of age, Bilbo Baggins showed Thorin Oakenshield how to stand up for others.

Belladonna didn't quite remember the first time she had been introduced to Thorin's father. It had been an occasion that was only experienced in passing, and the man hadn't spared her much of his time. Consequently, the memory had become slightly blurred around the edges, like her mind just couldn't hold onto it. Regardless, from such a small meeting, Belladonna thought she had come to know many things about Thrain. 

He was quite an intimidating man. In him, she could see Thorin's size and stature, and the harsh set of his face. Thrain wasn't a man of many words by any means, and he had a way of moving through a room that left silence and downcast eyes in his wake. His shoulders were always stiff and straight, and he walked with a determination that was a little frightening. Belladonna had never seen him show his children any affection, not even to hold Frerin when Vis's arms grew tired. While she had no doubt in her mind that he loved his children, he seemed like a difficult person to get along with. She wasn't certain how deep his affection for them went. Briefly, she wondered why a woman like Vis would be drawn to a person with such a stoic character, but that wasn't for her to worry about, so she put it out of her head. 

Belladonna had many occasions to watch Bilbo grow throughout that year. He got a little bit taller, and a little more of the baby fat in his cheeks fell away. He learned many new words, and became fascinated with sunsets. "I want to become an astrologer!" He once said. "I like watching the stars come out."

"The stars are always there." Belladonna taught with a gentle voice, as she directed his gaze with a finger under his chin to the bright sky spread out above him. "Always above us."

"But I can't see them during the day."

"That doesn't mean they're not there." Belladonna said. "You see, when the sun comes up, it's so bright and so big that the stars can't be seen anymore."

For a while after that Bilbo was quiet. He still watched the sky avidly, and slowly kicked his legs off the step he was seated on. He might have been upset, and Belladonna worried for a second, but then Bilbo stood. Quietly, he outstretched an arm as if he could grab the sun in his small fist. "How mean." He said.

It took a long time for Belladonna to understand what Bilbo meant by that. She never brought it up with her child again, because it felt like something that was just a flicker of thought, just a fragment, something that went in and out without making any lasting impact on the speaker. And while Bilbo seemed able to completely forget about the stray comment, Belladonna was struck by the sharp memory of it at irrelevant times. It always made her pause, and go quiet, because she was unable to see its true meaning and it just felt like it was important. She thought that Bilbo's growing considerations for the night sky had prompted him to criticise the rising of the sun, and it worried her. She didn't want him to hate the world for spinning, not just yet. He shouldn't have to realise just how quickly the days passed, shouldn't have to realise that the beautiful things he loved deeply aged and eventually went away. Even stars broke apart.

Regardless, Bilbo retained a carefree attitude. He'd started developing a sense for morals now that he was getting older, and his fantasies of rescuing princesses had translated into caring for injured birds he found in the backyard and sneaking the next door neighbour's dog treats through the fence. He was always a careful boy, and his hands were always gentle. He had a good affinity for animals, and the creatures trusted him quite willingly. The Baggins' household didn't have pets - aside from a noisy parrot named Lobelia, but even she was too grouchy to be pet by Bilbo, though not for a lack of effort on Bilbo's behalf. Belladonna was allergic to cats, and Bungo wasn't fond of dogs, but birds were okay. They'd had fish at some point too, but maintaining the tank had been a struggle with an adventurous child like Bilbo who loved to thrust his fingers into dirty fish water. Maybe they'd get more, in the future. 

One day, Bilbo came home with a bruise on his face.

"They were going to hit Thorin!" He protested, brows furrowed in irritation as Bungo rang the school and Belladonna tended to his face. "He wasn't going to stand up for himself."

"Bilbo, it's not your job to, either." Belladonna said. "Get a teacher, don't involve yourself."

"He didn't deserve it." Bilbo muttered. "Thorin... They just hate him because he doesn't talk much and he looks scary."

"Yes, but you know better than that." She replied. "There was no right or wrong in this situation, Bilbo, but I must insist you never do anything like this again."

Bilbo had never done anything like that before, and it frightened Belladonna. She feared for his safety, but more so for his mental capacity. She was doubtful that he could handle the strain of relationships, however negative they may be, especially in the school ground. Bilbo wasn't a fighter by nature. She couldn't figure out when the bad guys had gone from being invisible pirates with toilet paper roll swords to bullies in the playground, standing real and firm and most likely bigger than Bilbo. She'd never been so thankful that nothing like that had ever happened again.

After that incident, she saw a change in Thorin. Whereas he had previously been quiet and somewhat withdrawn, now his presence was a little more noticeable. When he entered a room, he wasn't hesitant to walk in before Bilbo did, and he had tentatively started calling Belladonna "Miss Bella" rather than "Miss Baggins". He didn't instantly grow confident in his actions, because not even that could be done in such a short amount of time, but his view on the world seemed to have shifted. Belladonna had been watching a documentary on pride behaviour and pack mentality in animals when she'd noticed it - that Thorin had shifted from being a mere "soldier" into a "protector." After that realisation, the discomfort in her heart eased a little.

She thought that maybe Thrain noticed it, too, because his eyes lingered on the way Thorin played with Bilbo whenever he caught sight of them in those brief moments wherein he stormed through their lives like a tug of hot wind. 

However it had happened, Belladonna thought that when Bilbo overcame his fears he taught Thorin the value of bravery. In the flush of Bilbo's blinding light, Thorin had dared to be brave, for it had illuminated the way to something he greatly, secretly, desperately desired. Only now he didn't seem so afraid to reach for whatever it was he wished so frequently for with all the might in his little body and his walled up mind.

At eight years of age, Bilbo Baggins showed Thorin Oakenshield how to stand up for others.


	6. Sentience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At nine years of age, Bilbo Baggins lulled Thorin Oakenshield into a state of sentience.

Belladonna wasn't too surprised to learn that Vis was pregnant once more. Unlike her pregnancy with Frerin, she seemed a little more vibrant. Her shoulders didn't seem so heavy, and her eyes could look at the sky like it was something to enjoy rather than something straining and unpredictable. Now, she seemed to enjoy motherhood. It was an attitude that was very different to the way she had been five years ago, when Belladonna had first met her at Bilbo's day care.

Time always appeared to slow during the hotter months of the year. Memories, even those that were freshly experienced, melted into a haze of humid weather and chirping cicadas and the smell of sunscreen. While Belladonna typically preferred warmer months, the boredom and languid slowness that accompanied summer throughout the shifting seasons could be off putting and unwelcome, at times.

Children in particular had very stark views on summer. Like with everything, children had the ability to like and dislike things freely, and were hardly hesitant to declare that they either loved or hated the hot weather. It brought them pools and beach days and sticky fingers covered in dripping ice blocks, but it also brought damp skin and restless nights and sunburns. For children, Belladonna knew that things like the weather were very important - the weather was a dominant aspect to a child’s life, and decided what kind of day a child would have. As they eased into adulthood, the weather lost some of its significance, as people subconsciously realised that a car would take them dryly to work and their air conditioning remote was now reachable, even from its high place in the cupboard. 

On the day Vis gave birth, the temperature of the air was hot. From within the halls of the hospital where Belladonna sat with her child and both Thorin and his young brother, the moderated air cooled the sweat on the small of her back and left her frizzy hair as it was, tied in a loose bun. Frerin was a very sweet boy, Belladonna observed, as he played with a wooden abacus-like toy on a patterned rug in the waiting room. He was so unlike Thorin, and sometimes with the way Frerin smiled so dazzlingly, she thought he was going to grow up to be a lot like Bilbo. Absently, Belladonna checked her phone, and tried to stop the dismayed frown that touched her lips when she noticed Thrain hadn't called her back yet. He'd left for a business trip just the day prior, and might have still been on the plane...

It was a misfortune, she thought, to think his third child would enter this harsh world without the guiding hands of both the parents. Bungo had refused to leave her side even for a moment as soon as she realised her first contraction had hit. Thinking on it now, she couldn't help but feel fond of her husband. She'd had to pretend to need the bathroom just so he would go under the pretence of helping her waddle there, but he'd never once complained. Not even when Belladonna had been frustrated with Bilbo's slow arrival, or when she'd squeezed his wrist too tightly as the epidural had been administered. In fact, the soft-faced man had simply smiled, like she'd offered him a face to watch that wasn't sweaty and blotchy with effort. 

"How much longer, Mama?" Bilbo asked, glancing up at her from his seat. He was gripping the edge of the chair with his small hands, and swinging his legs. He didn't look particularly bored, but as summer came so did the restlessness of the young. She didn't blame him, really. Vis had come to the hospital when her contractions starting coming at close enough intervals, and both Frerin and Thorin had slept over with Bilbo the previous night. Thorin was anxious to see his mother in the morning, but Belladonna had firmly waited until she'd been called by the midwife to come.

"Not too long now, dear." She said. It wasn't the first time she'd said those words this morning. "You can't rush things like this."

"But what's happening?" Bilbo frowned. "I don't understand."

Belladonna chuckled, and pressed the tip of her index finger against the corner of Bilbo's lips. "Stop frowning." She said without bite. "Miss Vis is in labour, which means the baby is getting ready to come see us all."

"But why does it take so long?"

Belladonna let out a small, thoughtful hum. "Well," She said, "It takes a while for everything to be in position so that the baby can come out safely."

"How is it not safe?"

"My, do you ask a lot of questions." Belladonna chuckled. "Sometimes the baby might be in the wrong position, and they could be hurt. Other times, the umbilical cord could be in the wrong place, so you have to be careful when it's pushed or pulled on. Sometimes it's not safe for the mother, too, and they have to wait a little longer before she can start pushing."

"Is Ma alright?"

"I'm sure she is." Belladonna answered, surprised to find Thorin easing himself into the seat on by her side, rather than next to Bilbo.

"What if one of those things happens?" He asked. His eyes were serious, and he had no hint of a smile in his voice. Belladonna felt that if she were to touch his hand, she would feel a nervous thrum echo through her fingertips. 

"Then the doctors will fix it." She said. "It's their job, what they're trained to do. Your mother is a strong woman, Thorin."

He lowered his eyes, but it wasn't out of defeat, or fright. Rather, his brow furrowed further, and he grit his teeth tightly. "Is she?" He muttered.

It was like the air had been pulled from Belladonna's lungs. She ached to hold Thorin, but she knew that was the wrong thing to do. To think, at such a young age, he was already beginning to see the cruelness of the world, how it would twist loving bonds and corrode even the sturdiest of walls built up around fragile, wavering hearts... It saddened her unlike anything else. Thorin didn't deserve to see the world that way, not yet.

"Miss Ella, Miss Ella!" Frerin called, voice high and sweet as he waved her over with a small giggle. He was almost two now, and had a bright smile and inquisitive eyes. She thought he was be very mischievous as he grew, and almost reluctantly she left the two older children by themselves to wonder over to Frerin. 

If she were being honest, being in the hospital was tiring her. The medicinal smell and the creak of heavy doors was repetitive and unstimulating, and she worried greatly for Vis and Thorin alike. Every moment that passed should have been spent with Thrain nervously awaiting the news about his wife and soon to be born child, and yet he wasn't even aware that any of this had started.

"... I'm scared."

Belladonna lifted her head a little, eyes going wide. As she passed Frerin a block he was reaching for, she carefully glanced back over at her child. Bilbo had taken her seat, and was carefully holding on of Thorin's hands in his own. Their heads were bent together, and briefly she thought back to the forts they always made out of blankets, and how they'd hidden from everything and everyone but each other within them. She thought that maybe they were doing that now, creating space just for them to live and breathe in. Neither of them noticed her interest, or seemed to care that there was a possibility their voices would carry in the sparsely decorated hospital. It was a quiet moment, a moment of needed solace and honesty, like pressing a cold hand to soothe away heat in a fevered forehead. 

"You don't need to be scared." Bilbo said, blinking owlishly. "But it's okay if you are."

"I just want to see my Ma."

"That's okay, too." Bilbo said. He lifted a hand, and gently placed it atop of Thorin's head. Locks of dark hair tangled between his fingers, but he didn't seem to notice. It was as though he could brush away the worries in Thorin's mind like they were nothing more than errant tufts of fluff that often shed from the hats they wore at school. "But my Mama said she'll be fine, and she's had a baby before. I think you'll be able to see her soon."

Although Bilbo's words and casual touches were comforting, Thorin didn't seem soothed. "I'm scared." He whispered again.

Bilbo tilted his head to the side, and gave the words some thought. "What about, though?"

"Ma's health, of course, but the baby too. What if they're not someone I like?"

"But they're just a baby." Bilbo said, puzzled. "Baby's don't do much."

Thorin seemed to accept that statement for what it was. "What about when they grow up?"

"Frer is alright, isn't he?" Bilbo countered. 

"What if... What if my Father doesn't like the baby? He's not even here..." 

Bilbo startled a little at that, like he couldn't quite comprehend the question. "Well... I don't know." He said. "But your Ma will love the baby, and you will too, won't you?"

"Of course!"

"Frer as well." Bilbo said.

"What if that's not enough?"

"Then I will as well!" Bilbo declared with an easy-going grin. "And my Mama, and Papa too - we'll all love the baby, and that'll surely be enough, won't it?"

Thorin cracked a small smile. "I think so."

"I don't think Lobelia will like the baby." Bilbo cautioned. "But that doesn't matter."

Belladonna turned away after that, and dutifully passed Frerin more toy blocks. Her heart was in turmoil, and for a while she was lost in her own thoughts, unable to tame them into anything that made sense. She couldn't understand the conversation her child had had with Thorin. It felt like it was important, and Thorin seemed more at ease as they went back to chatting aimlessly, but Belladonna simply couldn't fathom what had happened. Bilbo had done something really important in that moment, something that Thorin surely wouldn't forget. As she stared down at Frerin and saw his father's eyes stare back up at her, she thought that it might have something to do with Thrain. 

Vis had a baby girl. She named her Dis, and cried when Thorin held the quiet child for the first time.

At times when Belladonna was up late, her mind wandered over things that had happened in the day and things that were to come. She didn't know how Thrain's first meeting with his only daughter had gone, but she hoped with all that she could spare of her heart that something in him had been awakened. He needed to be more involved, be something more than he was - that much she knew just from the handful of times she'd spoken to him for longer than the time it took to say greetings and niceties. 

Either way, she thought that maybe Thorin had gained something new from this experience. She'd never heard him admit anything like that to Bilbo, and even when she closed her eyes she sometimes heard his voice whispering "I'm scared" like it was a plea for comfort. He was outstretching a hand, but no one was gripping it, not until a small, soft hand attached to a warm smile came to rest upon his head, like a safety pin holding together the parts of Thorin that seemed worn out and were waiting for repair. 

At nine years of age, Bilbo Baggins lulled Thorin Oakenshield into a state of sentience.


	7. Specious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At ten years of age, Bilbo Baggins offered Thorin Oakenshield a tether to the world.

Belladonna thought that more than any other person on the planet, she knew just how well children lived in the moment. Her child was special, was someone destined to do great, honourable things. Through Bilbo, she had come to realise that children lived in the moment, and that they spared no thoughts towards yesterday, or towards tomorrow. Rather, they simply exist in the moment, thoughtlessly and carefully and freely. She thought that maybe that was why they could dream so brightly and see things that adults were incapable of seeing. 

She wondered what age her child would grow to be before he started to see the future. It was a daunting prospect, and she hoped that he wasn't too frightened when it happened. To realise that there was a future ahead without the familiarity of home and comfort that one relied on in the moment was a suffocating thought, one that had tormented Belladonna during her younger years. Even thinking on it now had her heart twisting painfully, but she eased herself into calmness with the memories of times when she was undeniably happy. When she thought back on the times when her mind and her heart alike had been swallowed by darkness, it was always Bungo that came to her mind. He didn't save her, because romance wasn't and couldn't be an ideal like that, but he had been the one to offer her a hand when she had fallen, and he was always the one waiting to catch her if she should ever fall again. He was an ever present presence, one that was utterly loyal and endlessly supportive, and she would never be able to repay him with enough kindness for all that had done for her over the years. But for him, she was able to heal, and from that she learned to love, and had gained the ability to do so in a healthy way.

She hoped that Bilbo would find someone like that one day. For now, he seemed content to live in a world of youthfulness, where pain of the mind was nothing but an irrelevant concept he didn't truly understand. She was afraid that with such a tender heart, her child could become sullied by the greed of others and the misfortune that often brought. He was too soft-hearted, too trusting and too young to yet understand the complexities of the world and how it could become so cruel for no reason. The world, in a word, was unreasonable. She didn't know if she believed in concepts like fate or destiny, as to her they were fickle things, but even so she hoped that the path Bilbo was led down would be one bereft of unnecessary heartache and discomfort. 

After the birth of her daughter, Vis seemed to change a little. The weight on her shoulders was back, and her eyes were often glassy, staring at something so far away that it was utterly out of reach. It took Belladonna a long time to look at her without feeling physically unsettled, because when she saw Vis she saw herself in the first few months of Bilbo's life. It was a situation where control was impossible, and although she wanted to help Vis she felt unable to do so, for her own health and wellbeing. She didn't want to fall down that rabbit hole again. 

Some days Belladonna thought that Thorin was older in mind than he was in body. He'd developed a rather protective streak, and acted very responsibly in regards to his younger siblings. Even towards Bilbo he was gentle and strong, and although he spoke no more than he did when he was younger he certainly had changed. Belladonna thought that maybe the shift in perspective that Thorin had experienced were for the better, but she couldn't be sure. She didn't know what haunted his dreams. She didn't know what he thought of when he looked at the sky. Didn't know what he felt when he thought of Bilbo.

But she did know her child.

Bilbo dreamed of great things, of things that weren't real. As he aged, his dreams became punctuated with reality, but it was still a childish and unattainable land of make-believe to an adult such as herself. For now, he enjoyed his dreams, and allowed them to sift through his mind like grains of sand falling from the fingertips of a smiling child. She knew what he thought of when he looked at the sky, too. He watched the clouds avidly like they were his dreams themselves, and he fell asleep easily with the stars watching over him. With the knowledge of their permanence, he was content. Belladonna thought he was firmer on the ground, now, and didn't often have cold dreams of the times when he seemed to drift away. Much like his affection for the skies and the things they could provide, she knew he harboured a deep bond with Thorin, too. They were childhood friends, and still children, too. Their bond was forged in the purest of hearts, and she desperately hoped it would remain eternal. When she thought of them parting ways, her heart began to jump into her throat. Maybe separation would do them good, but... She didn't want that. Bilbo was undeniably fond of Thorin, unexplainably attached to him and his quirks.

She couldn't hurt her child like that.

Couldn't hurt Thorin, either. In him, she saw more despair at the idea of separation that she did in Bilbo. She couldn't help but hear his voice crying "Please be my friend still" when she thought of them separating, and it brought her a maddening sense of sadness. What could possibly cause a child to be so frightened of something like that? Maybe frightened wasn't the right word, but Belladonna didn't know what was.

Bilbo, for what it was worth, enjoyed his time with Thorin. Visually, their differences only grew with age, but in their hearts Belladonna knew they could only ever grow closer. Sometimes she wondered if it was Thorin she dreamed Bilbo was drifting away from and not herself, but those thoughts only ever touched the tip of her tongue before they were irritatingly disappearing into a deep, forgotten crevice on her mind, much like dreams themselves. 

Regardless, Bilbo always offered Thorin a hand. He never stopped reaching out to him. On the nights that Thorin slept over, when Belladonna checked on the children before she went to bed, she would often see that Thorin had rolled away from Bilbo. Her child, however, always followed, and slept with a small hand gripping the back of Thorin's nightshirt, like he was the anchor that kept Thorin from being led astray.

As much as she thought that was a good thing, she knew that anchors had to drown if they didn't want to be a burden.

At ten years of age, Bilbo Baggins offered Thorin Oakenshield a tether to the world.


	8. Sprout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At eleven years of age, Bilbo Baggins taught Thorin Oakenshield that the world could still be full of dreams.

The older the children got, the more the world seemed to change to them. Bilbo was a fiercely intelligent boy, was always right at the top of all his classes with his smartest peers, and although he seemed sturdy there were qualities about him that seemed delicately fragile. He had a gentle way of perceiving the world, with emotions that weren't broad enough or developed enough. He, with age, became more vulnerable. Not physically, but... in a different way.

His smile was still bright. As long as he could smile the way he did, Belladonna didn't let herself get too worried. She knew that her heart would break if anything were to happen to him, but for now he lived at an age where the days blurred into fond memories and enthusiasm was rampant. Bilbo was a happy child, and he had grown so much from the tiny infant Belladonna still recalled him being. His mind was growing, was expanding to encompass a whole new set of skills and language and behaviour to match the world that was opening up around him. Like with age, his interests matured - he learned about technology, about exploring the neighbourhood, about movie nights with groups of his friends. Belladonna wanted him to experience a peaceful childhood, one he could draw strength from later in life when he may not be so unaware of the darker things that lurked in the most unexepected places.

Thorin was different. He was strong, undoubtedly, but weathered. After the birth of Dis, his mother struggled greatly. She was quiet and withdrawn, and her eyes became hollow. Although she loved her children dearly, all of them, she couldn't love herself enough for them. Belladonna knew that her angst was something that sometimes happened to mothers, and although it was difficult to overcome it wasn't impossible. Vis had done it after Thorin's birth, and although she was fine after Frerin, she would again be faced by something challenging with Dis. If Belladonna could ease her heart even a little, then she would, but what Vis faced could only be overcome by her and her will. 

Sometimes Belladonna thought that Thorin could see through his mother's facade when it came to her struggles. He watched her with careful eyes, and was always quiet around her, as though he was afraid that any loud noise could frighten her. With the amount of time Thrain was absent, it was no wonder he had grown up so fast. Thorin was protective of his siblings, and was always caring for hem. Vis had once told her that Thorin had woken for all of Dis's nightly feeds to care for her when Vis was struck with a cold. She hadn't even had the strength to rise when she heard her daughter crying, and yet Thorin had dutifully carried out all the parenting without complaint. It was hard to believe a child could be so responsible.

But Belladonna did believe it. Others thought Vis was exaggerating, but Belladonna believed her completely. In a way, she had seen that protectiveness in the dark-haired boy herself - in the way his friendship with Bilbo thrived. He was several inches taller than Bilbo now, and broader in the shoulders. He was less hesitant to lead Bilbo around, and didn't shy away from Bilbo's whimiscal tales any more. Rather, he seemed to have grown into a state where he accepted them with nothing more and nothing less than a gentle smile. Belladonna thought that in Bilbo he saw his own siblings, or mabye the other way around. Thorin never criticised Bilbo's dreams, and never discouraged them. To Bilbo, he was a healthy form of realise. Thorin siphoned all of the excess energy out of Bilbo, and kept him grounded in a way that Belladonna couldn't. The older they got, the more Belladonna thought they were good for one another. 

Bilbo's disposition towards Thorin changed, at times. Just like when he was younger, he was often excited and energetic and full of wonder. He said strange things that seemed to stick in Thorin's mind, just like the time he'd said that fish could fly and that they'd always be friends. Other times, however, it was like Bilbo could sense Thorin's distress, even when that was a level of perception that was out of his range. It had startled Belladonna the first time she noticed, because Bilbo was too young to be able to soothe Thorin the way he did. He acted like a balm, tenderly applied to a wound that had only just remained unbroken. He was unendingly patient, and even when Thorin was in a dour mood he loyally sit by his side until he was ready to play again, even if there were others offering Bilbo company. He never left Thorin's side when Thorin needed him, even though he could have been too young to realise exactly what Thorin, and by extention Vis, were going through. 

He certainly had grown in recent years. Belladonna lamented the passage of time that so greatly affected her precious child, but she enjoyed it greatly, too. To see who her child would grow up to become, who he was becoming... It was a privilege unlike any other. Every mother was capable of seeing such a wonderful thing, if only they would looked properly. Sometimes it was difficult, but to see even a glimpse of one's child becoming someone new and beautiful, it was positively mesmerizing. It filled her with a sense of pride like nothing else ever had or ever would. 

In a way, helping Thorin also helped Vis. When Thorin was soothed by Bilbo, Vis's worries seemed to ease, and her focus returned. Belladonna often came over under the pretense of dropping Bilbo off just to help her, and although Vis saw through all of her little white lies she let herself be helped with nothing but a small, albeit strained smile. When she let herself be vulnerable like that, Belladonna knew she was starting to look up again. She seemed more alive when Bilbo was over, because he brightened up Thorin - in that sense, Thorin was the pillar of the home, and as someone who involved himself so heartfullly and wholly in the lives of his family, his happiness bloomed into every crevice and every corner of every room.

At eleven years of age, Bilbo Baggins taught Thorin Oakenshield that the world could still be full of dreams.


	9. Sapid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At twelve years of age, Bilbo Baggins offered Thorin Oakenshield a taste of wonder.

Bilbo matured in a way that was very hard to comprehend. With age, his heart seemed to beat the same way a butterfly would flap its wings - strongly, quickly, without hesitance. He left a mark that was considerably smaller on the people he met now, like a gentle gust of wind that turned heads and soothed away confusing thoughts. Even to Belladonna, who knew him so deeply, he was always becoming new. At times she thought he was growing too fast, that he was moving out of the safeness of her reach. The way it felt like it was out of control frightened her, but she would always be there for her precious child, regardless.

For now, she was content to watch Bilbo grow. She'd get over the hesitance in her heart, and although everything felt as though it was falling to the wind, she'd remain. For now, Bilbo was just Bilbo. He enjoyed school, though he wasn't overly fond of mathematics, and he loved movie nights even if he always gave out most of his salted popcorn. He watched the stars with fascination, and was always creating something wonderful. He was gifted at speaking, Belladonna thought - or more appropriately, at writing. He wove words as though they were spun from silk, and goaded them into acting and bending to his will like nothing Belladonna had ever experienced before. He conveyed truth onto paper, and could create entire universes with nothing but simple, strung-together words. He'd change the world with words like that, she had no doubt. She'd always known that Bilbo was destined for great things, and maybe his way with words would help him when he was grown up. Maybe it would help others, too.

Bilbo was always the happiest when he and Thorin were together. Out of all his friends, Thorin was the one he was closest to, and the one he wished to spend the most time with. He was more inclined to Thorin's whims than to anyone else's, and maintained a careful sense of casualness around him that was endearing to think of. Like any fast growing boy, he was enthusiastic and a little mischievous and very playful. He'd grown up so much in recent years that Belladonna couldn't help but be proud of the person he was becoming, and how steadily he maintained his relationships with those around him. Sometimes she thought he might have lost something with age, and while that was an inevitable fact of life she didn't particularly enjoy it. More than anything, she wanted him to believe that the world could be a good place that things could thrive and live and not just survive off of meaningless relationships and ultimately futile passions.

With the passing of each year, Belladonna found herself struggling to notice all the little changes that affected their domestic life. She couldn't quite remember when Bilbo had grown enough to reach into the top shelves comfortably, or when he'd started doing the dishes for her every other night. She couldn't remember when he started drinking tea, or the exact moment when he lit his first candle, or even the second, or third. He often made his own school lunches now, and didn't need her help at breakfast. He put away his own clothes, and didn't need her help when fixing his hair in the mornings. She was proud of how self-sufficient he had become, but it saddened her a little. She didn't want to become unneeded by him, but she was comforted by the knowledge that a child would always need their parent, even for small things. She would always help him, if she could. She'd help Thorin, too. 

He didn't often seem like he needed it. Even more so than Bilbo, Thorin seemed sturdy and weathered. While there were still childish aspects to him, like his changing features and his deepening voice, what went on in his head was becoming a truly mystifying prospect to her. It was something she recognised as her inability to understand adults, but Thorin should have still been too young to comprehend such things. The growing absence of his father, however, and the way Vis sometimes struggled on her own had made Thorin grow up well before his time. He was certainly a brave child, but that was just it, wasn't it? He was still a child, and he deserved to act childishly from time to time.

With Bilbo, Belladonna thought that he could. It was as though he'd given himself the permission too, like his time with Bilbo was a coveted luxury. She'd never stop being amazed at the way they interacted, because it wasn't like anything she'd ever seen before. They were close enough that it was like they were never apart, even when they were.

"You still have this, huh?" Bilbo murmured as he fondly ran his fingers over the faded colours of the fish keychain Thorin used to organise his keys.

Thorin had a book perched neatly in his hands, and only turned a page as Bilbo spoke. He hummed quietly, and anyone other than Bilbo would have taken that as a sign of inattention. Of course, Bilbo knew Thorin much better than any other person, and he was confident enough in their friendship to know that Thorin's quietness wasn't out of boredom or annoyance.

Bilbo only offered a warm smile. They sat together on the edge of the porch, and Bilbo swung his legs. It was autumn, so Belladonna had made sure both wore scarves before adventuring outside to watch orange leaves fall from the trees in their backyard. "I remember when we got this." He said, turning the fish over in his hands. "It's cute, isn't it?"

"I think it's weird looking." Thorin said. "But I like it."

Bilbo laughed. It was a joyous sound, one that was honestly and clearly amused. "It's not weird looking!" He protested without real effort. "It's realistic, is all. Except for the eyes, they're a little big."

Thorin crackled a faint smile. "Your eyes are big."

Bilbo gaped at him. "Are you saying I look like a fish?"

Thorin remained teasingly quiet, and shut the book he was holding. 

Bilbo huffed at him, and fiddled with the keys once more. "It's getting cold, isn't it?"

"It's autumn."

"I know that." Bilbo replied. "I like autumn. Everything is getting ready to be reborn, you know? All the trees are giving one last display before they grow back vibrant and green in the springtime." 

"Reborn, you say." Thorin murmured to himself quietly, as he watched Bilbo with searching eyes. "Do you like autumn?"

Bilbo startled at the question. "I like all the seasons." He said simply. "Don't you?"

"I... Never thought about it." Thorin said. "I guess so."

Bilbo smiled easily, and passed Thorin his keys back. "I like the fish, too."

"But you like your seal more." Thorin insisted.

"More or less." Bilbo shrugged a shoulder. "You remember that too, huh?"

Thorin had the decency to look a little flushed at that. His fingers tightened over the fish Bilbo had returned to him, like it suddenly felt different in his palm. "I... Yes, I do."

Bilbo grinned again. "I'm glad! That makes me happy."

Belladonna couldn't describe Thorin's expression at that. There were no words great enough or accurate enough that she could recall. 

At twelve years of age, Bilbo Baggins offered Thorin Oakenshield a taste of wonder.


	10. Superfluity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At thirteen years of age, Bilbo Baggins made sure to keep Thorin Oakenshield steady.

Belladonna had heard many horror stories about teenaged children. A lot of parents lost confidence in their kids when they reached those troublesome ages, but Belladonna would have liked to think that she had more faith in her child than that. She understood that she would understand him less as he aged, but she trusted that he'd come to her if he had any problems. She was sure to make it clear to him how proud she was oh him, and how much she loved him, and how she'd always be there for him. To a child, especially one entering such a tumultuous stage in life, having the unwavering support given freely by a parent was the best a mother or father could do. 

She thought that, in a way, all people entering the same stage of life as Bilbo could be grouped together by similarity. Even though each child was unique and therefore different, the young always had the same problem - things like rebellion and conformity were avid, and once they gained a character for themselves this issue was resolved by defying orders or being disobedient and by mimicking one another. In a way, children were dipping their fingers into adulthood while remaining firmly implanted in childhood. They tried on face after face, and recycled friends and fads and behaviours to find the one that would fit, and that process when on for years. Although adults did much the same, it was never at the same rate as children, and it was never quite as dramatic. It was a phenomenon that was entirely unique to that particular age bracket. 

As Bilbo got bigger, the world around him expanded and his views broadened. His fragility seemed to shed, and with every passing day knowledge and experience made his skin thicker. He was stuck in a stage between childishness and adulthood, and by the time Belladonna was able to understand him he'd aged even more. It was a rapid growth, but a treasured one nevertheless. 

Belladonna recalled her own teenage years with a mixture of fondness and forlorn. When she was just a child, she'd felt that her parents were ignorant, and that they had been utterly unable to understand her. This led to resentment, and she had hardly been able to stand having them around, at times. By the time she'd grown into an adult that she could be proud to be, she'd been astonished at how much her parents had learned. Such a quick growth period didn't just affect the child, after all, and the time had been beneficial to the relationship her parents had with her now. She thinks that it was difficult for them to understand her, too, in the same way she sometimes looked at Bilbo and thought she had glimpsed at someone entirely new. 

Somehow, Belladonna thought Bilbo would be alright. He was only just approaching a rapid stage of growth, and for now Belladonna was able to keep track of his whims and his dreams. He lived in a world of unnecessary excess, and soon he would delve into it head-first like every other teenager he knew. He was maturing steadily, and furthering his passions. Even in a world that was constantly changing, he became a steadying force, and sometimes Belladonna thought that he was tethering her to reality and not the other way around. For now, she could still understand him, for the most part.

She couldn't understand Thorin. He seemed to have moved out of her range, like he was orbiting a completely different world. When she saw him, she didn't see a troubled child, as she knew many others had seen. Rather, she saw someone who was dominated by a responsibility he felt completely at blame for, someone who felt unable to truly let go of something he couldn't get a firm grip on. She didn't resent him for it, but she knew she would be unable to help him, even though she wished to. She knew that were would be a point wherein children would have no choice but to grow up, but she wished that Thorin's time hadn't come so soon. He was such a sweet child at heart, and Bilbo believed in him so fervently. If that wasn't a good indication of his character, then she didn't know what would be.

Those two spent a lot of time together, even with school work picking up. They did their homework together, and ate together in the afternoons. They were very close, and Belladonna was glad for it. Her Bilbo would be lonely, she thinks, if he didn't have anyone he knew as deeply as Thorin. He was the type of person to have a large group of friends, but only a small number of people he was truly close to. Having someone like Thorin, someone who was quiet and earthly, it was good for Bilbo. It balanced out his excess, and allowed Thorin to become level and steady. Belladonna had no doubt in her mind that the two of them where good for one another. 

Vis often watched Thorin with rueful eyes. As Dis grew older, Vis seemed to settle back into motherhood with a nervous kind of guilt, but it abated bit by bit each day. She would never fully be the woman Belladonna had first met, nor the woman who had birthed Frerin, but something about that felt alright. Like a rebirth, she would become someone new and better suited to the needs of her children and her loved ones. For that, Belladonna applauded her. Vis had been brave enough to seek out help, and was able to employ it without much hesitation or reluctance. She was bettering herself for the sake of her children. Belladonna didn't think she could have done anything better, considering the situation at hand.

Either way, Belladonna thought Bilbo was adjusting to the sudden influx of openness that the world was throwing at him remarkably well. He still smiled warmly, and if Thorin should ever stumble with anything, no matter what it was - a wrongly placed answer on a test, a night that simply wouldn't allow sleep, a bumped head from a sibling - then Bilbo was always there offering a hand with nothing more and nothing less than a gentle, tender smile.

At thirteen years of age, Bilbo Baggins made sure to keep Thorin Oakenshield steady.


	11. Stride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At fourteen years of age, Bilbo Baggins gave Thorin Oakenshield a sense of confidence.

It was difficult for Belladonna to fathom how fast her child was growing. He was getting taller physically, and looking more and more like his father every day. Even though the days went fast for her - faster and faster every year - it seemed that Bilbo was stuck in a place where ageing was a slow, turbulent process. To her, the way time flowed was becoming less and less important as Bilbo finally started to become someone designed by his own thoughts. His impressionability was lessening with each year he lived, and the way she guided his life was becoming less pivotal in regards to his character. She felt safer in the knowledge that he would be able to decide important things for himself, and that he was finally at an age where he could learn from his mistakes rather than suffer from them.

He was a very confident child. With each passing year, confidence was something she noticed about him, something that was growing to be a bigger part of his personality. She was very aware of how a child's relationship with confidence could be quite negative and self-depreciating, so if he could retain such a happy relationship with himself... That was all she wished for. More than anything, she hoped he never grew to hate himself, as so many children did. At one point in her life, even Belladonna had hated herself more than anything, and she never wished for him to experience such a darkness. Her heart trembled at the thought of her child falling into a place so dark she could no longer reach him. More than anything, she wanted him to keep his place among the clouds where he was happy, so that he'd never fall into a place where the sky could no longer be seen.

Regardless of the world spinning around him, Bilbo remained steady on his feet. His passions grew with his age, and with knowledge so did his fondness for life. He loved to learn, and enjoyed school - though he still wasn't fond of his mathematics class - and his love for reading grew and grew. Bungo had bought him a bookshelf for his recent birthday, and while it was an unconventional gift for a person his age Bilbo had had stars in his eyes as he helped his father assemble it. He filled it with all of his favourite books as soon as it was stable, and admired the empty spaces with a quiet, burning excitement that made Belladonna smile. She looked at parents with children who rebelled, children who hated school and hated reading and resented time spent with family and she couldn't help but feel so relieved her child was becoming the person he was. She was thankful to have a child like him, and for that she could overlook his flaws. Parenting was a compromise, a situation of give and take where the blind trust that needed to be handed over often made many parents bulk up and categorise their children as problematic teenagers, as though age truly had such a big role in their behaviour. It was a combination of understanding and trying to understand, and that was difficult. Generational gaps didn't make it any easier, either, because as Bilbo aged so did Belladonna. 

Her back was getting a little more strained as she got older, and she found she couldn't be hunched over in her garden for quite so long as she used to. Bungo had to do much more of the heavy lifting in the house, and as each year passed she found more wrinkles in her skin. If she were being honest, then she would say it bothered her on a superficial level, but it wasn't something she felt the need to focus on. If her child could look at her with adoration in his eyes and say "I love you", and if her husband could kiss her cheek warmly and hold her close at night, then she had nothing to worry over. 

"He gets that confidence from you, my dearest." Bungo once told her. She hadn't truly believed him at the time, but the older Bilbo got the more of herself she saw in him, and not just in his eyes and in the roundness of his nose. 

Surprisingly, Belladonna noticed that it was Thorin who struggled with confidence. He wasn't a particularly out-spoken person, and preferred to be the listener of the conversation. His lack of confidence didn't come from self-consciousness, she didn't think, although everyone had some level of that deep down. Rather, she thought it came from his words themselves, like he was hesitant to say something in fear of the reaction he'd provoke. He seemed afraid not of reciprocation, but of having nothing given in return. He seemed like the type of person that desired equality and valued fairness, and that meant having conversations that were pleasant and fulfilling. Belladonna thought maybe that was why Thorin mostly spoke to Bilbo, because Bilbo understood him more than any other child their age. More than adults too, for that matter. 

"You should just say what you want." Bilbo once told Thorin, as they lounged on the porch with their homework spread out around them. "Everyone will listen."

Thorin paused in what he was writing, and shrugged. "I don't have much to say."

Bilbo looked at him contemplatively. "I think you do." He said. "I like hearing your thoughts, so share them some more, okay?"

Thorin, like most people in Bilbo's life, appeared unable to ignore or disobey any of Bilbo's requests. After Bilbo had said that, after Thorin had watched him in silence like he was ingraining the words into his head, he started to talk more. Only a little, at first, and his voice was so quiet that it was hard to notice - but Bilbo always did. He’d always turn his head to acknowledge Thorin, and listen avidly to everything he said. Because of Bilbo's nature, because of the way people seemed to fall to his whims, those participating in the conversation couldn't help but be led on by him in listening to Thorin. As it went on, Thorin developed a more confident voice, and before long he could be easily involved in conversations as though all his previous worries had disappeared. He took the change in his stride, and he seemed better for it.

It was strange to think her child could have such a profound impact on someone.

At thirteen years of age, Bilbo Baggins gave Thorin Oakenshield a sense of confidence.


	12. Sub-Rosa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At fifteen years of age, Bilbo Baggins and Thorin Oakenshield shared a secret.

Belladonna was twenty-five when she realised she was truly in love. Twenty-six when she accepted that as a part of herself, too. To her, love could be a very fickle emotion. It was a word that was used too freely, and it had such lost much of its meaning. In many ways, she hadn't understood what it was like to love someone in a romantic manner, or even how such a thing could be possible. It was a foreign concept in her head, one that she admittedly feared greatly. Only when she'd grown the ability to love herself completely had she been able to make room in her heart for anyone else, and the person that had fit in perfectly had been Bungo. 

Her husband was a quiet man. Diminutive in nature, many people overlooked him and underestimated him. He wasn't commercially handsome, but to Belladonna he had always been the most beautiful person she'd ever come across. He was gentle, and kind, and from the first time he'd held her hands as though they were made from glass she knew she felt greatly for him. At times she regretted how long it had taken her to finally tell him that she loved him, because he'd been telling her for years before the moment she'd realised it. He was the first person to truly and deeply love every part of her, even her bad habits and the way she sometimes stumbled into a dark place and even her overwhelming need for adventure, which so many people had turned away from. He was a rare kind of person, and in him she could see a worldliness that their child reflected spectacularly. 

Watching Bilbo mature had become a subtle thing of late. He had always been quite the intelligent child, and his way of reading people only grew better and better as each year passed. Belladonna found that he was much older in mind than in body, but that was something she could be proud of. He had a good head on his shoulders, and she was confident that he would make the decisions that were best for himself and his wellbeing. In a way, it sometimes seemed as though he had finished growing up right before her eyes, but the way his smile still held childishness and wonder made her anxious heart settle.

If anything, Bilbo seemed liked most teenagers his age. Belladonna and Bungo gave him as much freedom as they could afford, but he never took advantage of that. He was responsible, and understood that he needed to maintain their trust, and although he did test the waters every now and then, that could be forgiven. He didn't always tell Belladonna everything that had happened during the day anymore, either, but she thought that every teen was like that in some way. Being secretive was just something that happened - it was something that came with the need for privacy, the need for space to grow and to be alone and to become familiar with one's self, separate from the family environment. She often thought about his relationships, and wondered if any of them were romantic in nature. After all, he was at the age where romance was ripe, if not forever. Bilbo had friends of all genders, but he'd never given any particular signs to show his inclinations. It amused her sometimes, to think he had a girlfriend hidden behind his back. It always made her look at his friends a little closer, though she never mentioned her curiosity. Regardless of his growing age, Bilbo still remained the closest with Thorin.

Vis was happy to see that they remained such strong friends. Frerin and Dis were both growing up now too, and they followed Thorin with so much enthusiasm and adoration that Belladonna was always left awestruck and cooing. The two younger children idolised their elder sibling, which was humbling and homely to see. Thorin's relationship with them was just as strong and just as protective as it had always been, though maybe a little more towards Dis than to Frerin now that they were getting older. His relationship with Bilbo was just as strong, too. In him, Belladonna could see a protectiveness and a tenderness that was born from a deep connection that spanned many years. Thorin had a whole place in his head just for Bilbo, where he remembered things that were important so that he could recall them if he should ever need them. Somehow, that knowledge soothed Belladonna. She had no doubt that they would be friends for a long time to come, and only hoped that nothing stood between them, be it a partner or a job or anything inconsequential. 

Belladonna spent many days knowing that Thorin and Bilbo would be together. When she came home Thorin would be over, and she would often take him home in the evening if he didn't stay for dinner. The two of them were seemingly inseparable. 

One day, when they shared a bowl of ice-cream topped with banana slices and chocolate shavings between them, Belladonna overheard one of their conversations. It was something very simple, generalised topics that went in one ear and out the next. It was a summer day, and the air was humid. She doesn't quite know what exactly it was about that conversation that perked her interest, but she put it down to instinct and didn't question it again. Perhaps it wasn't quite the conversation that provoked her interest, but rather their body language. The two of them had always been close, from the first moment Bilbo had grabbed Thorin's hand as a toddler to lead him around the day care centre. That day in the summer heat, however, there was something different about it. For a long time, she couldn't quite place what it was.

But they were closer.

Their heads were bent over the ice-cream bowl, and they didn't complain about sharing everything but spoons even though they had more than enough food and plates for both of them to eat separately. Neither seemed to notice, and perhaps it was in fact that aspect of it all that had Belladonna surprised. It was such a casual level of intimacy that she felt like she was intruding just thinking of it. The image of the two of them lingered in her mind for days after it had happened, and soon she found herself unable to ignore the casualness between them. Thorin still carried around his faded fish keychain, and Bilbo always pet his hair when he stood to leave the room. Even though it wasn't particularly a hidden thing between them, Belladonna still felt like it was a cherished secret, safely hidden by the confines of that particularly hot summer.

At fifteen years of age, Bilbo Baggins and Thorin Oakenshield shared a secret.


	13. Sprightliness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At sixteen years of age, Bilbo Baggins and Thorin Oakenshield opened their eyes to a world unlike any other.

During the year, Bungo flew across the country to visit family. Belladonna couldn't quite recall what the occasion was, but throughout the week he was gone she developed a particularly rigorous cold. It was during the turning of the seasons, and at that time of year she always became a little sniffily. Bungo usually kept an eye on her health, and made sure she wasn't put out of commission. With him gone, she found herself rather fevered and ill, to the point where Bilbo had to take care of her.

She lamented the time when he was too young and too small to do so. Back then, when he hadn't been able to reach the sink, when he hadn't been able to understand that even mothers got ill, she had been the one to care for him. She'd always cared for him, but now he had to do the same for her. He'd grown to become a person who had tender hands and a gentle voice, one who was capable of caring for others when they were even at their most vulnerable. Somehow, Belladonna thought that maybe he'd been taking care of someone else for a very long time. That was the impression she got.

Bilbo was very considerate when he cared for her. He had gotten advice from his father, and now he spent many evenings watching over Belladonna rather than watching the skies. At times, when Belladonna was tired and disorientated, she thought she might have heard Thorin's voice, too. Somehow those thoughts calmed her, and she realised it was because Thorin and Bilbo were always together. Even when they were separated, she felt as though they remained connected, as though they were never truly apart. It astounded her, at times, because at their age she hadn't been about to fathom anything they were experiencing, not even on the most basic of levels. It was a bond unlike anything she'd ever seen, and as they aged she found that it became something difficult to understand. At times she expected it to become more subtle, or to fade, as many things did with age. But just the opposite happened - it gained speed, collected trinkets and emotions and feelings like a storm that swept up all in its path. She felt consumed by it all at times, but she knew that it wasn't something for her to worry about. 

Thorin was a very respectable boy. He was quiet, yes, but Belladonna got to hear his voice quite a lot, because he remained by Bilbo's side so loyally. He'd grown quite a fair bit, and his features were starting to shift into a more mature look. He didn't quite look like his nose had outgrown his cheekbones, and his eyes were getting darker and darker as each year went by until they became nothing but a captivating, dark blue colour. His shoulders were broader, and his legs longer. He grew at a faster rate than Bilbo, and as each month passed Belladonna noticed that fact more and more. He was several inches taller than Bilbo, but when they were together it was like their physical differences didn't exist. Belladonna couldn't quite put her finger on what exactly it was about their relationship, but there was something special to it. They were friends unlike any other, and she hoped desperately that they would never part. In some ways, she could see that her lively child had come to rely on Thorin, and she wouldn't be able to fill the whole left in his heart if Thorin should ever leave it vacant. 

Although she had been sick, she still remembered blurry images from the time Bilbo had cared for her. She remembered a coolness on her forehead and thought it might have been Bilbo's doing, and she remembered big hands that didn't belong to her child pulling her blankets neat. She remembered faint voices, though not what they were saying. She remembered forcing her eyes open, just for a moment, and seeing the two of them pressed side-to-side as they hovered over her bed, a thermometer clutched from either end in their hands. She remembered feeling quite surprised in that moment, because she hadn't expected it. She'd looked at them, and saw Bungo and herself worrying over their child when he was much younger. It certainly gave her something to think about for the few moments she was conscious. When she started to feel better, she still remembered that moment, but she couldn't remember why it had surprised her so much.

Her child had always been affectionate, and he was very fond of Thorin. Was that act not just an extension of their usual behaviour?

If she were being honest, she didn't quite know. She was unable to recall the exact moment when their friendship had turned so casual, because it wasn't exactly like the relationships boys their age had with one another. She often expected more banter, or more roughness. She knew Bilbo simply wasn't like that, but that didn't mean he couldn't be. He was still adventurous, after all, and still had a head that was firmly above the clouds. He was an enigmatic child, one that Thorin responded to as if he were the moon and Bilbo was the earth he was orbiting. Nothing about their relationship was like the expected, she supposed. She'd always known her child would do great things, and maybe helping Thorin was one of them. She knew that Thorin was a person who deserved better than he'd been given, by no fault of Vis, and maybe Bilbo could one day give that to him. 

For now, Belladonna was enchanted by the way Bilbo was maturing. His intelligence was wild and consuming, and he often pulled Thorin into his little escapades. Bilbo had a lightness to him, one that begged for others to come closer and enjoy. He was somewhat vivacious, and full of life. He carried a sense of fulfilment with him wherever he went, and that often fell over to Thorin, too. 

"Can I talk to you for a bit?" 

Bilbo had sounded so nervous when he asked her that. Bungo was still at work, but Belladonna finished before him, and after she'd taken Thorin home she'd busied herself with dinner while Bilbo did his school work. Belladonna was used to her child coming in to talk to her, and even though she didn't always reply to his out-loud musings she appreciated the company. A room felt drastically different when Bilbo was in it, and it was a warmth she would never stop liking. So, she'd welcomed Bilbo in with open arms. 

"What's troubling you, my dear?" She'd asked. "I hope it's not a maths question, I don't like those very much."

Bilbo laughed at her little joke as though he truly found it funny. It made her smile as she watched him out of the corner of her eye, because he still laughed like he did when he was a child. "You'll always love me, right?"

"But of course." She chuckled. "You're my child, and hardly anything you do ever angers me. I'll always love you."

Bilbo smiled pleasantly at that.

"Is there something I can help you with?" Belladonna asked. She could sense something about him, something that was like a nervous fluttering. She was careful to continue cooking in hopes of luring his troubles out of him. It was a trick her mother had done for her, to act so casual, because it made conversations less strained. 

Somehow, this felt a little different.

Bilbo cleared his throat, and fixed his eyes firmly to the side. "Well, I like boys- I like girls as well, but ah... Yeah, I like boys too."

At sixteen years of age, Bilbo Baggins and Thorin Oakenshield opened their eyes to a world unlike any other.


	14. Supplication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At seventeen years of age, Bilbo Baggins showed Thorin Oakenshield the value of humility.

Belladonna never truly felt oblivious. Her eyes had seen many things, and she'd grown to become a person who remained observant even in the dark. She'd come to know the places that many were blissfully unaware of, and was content with the familiarity of her mind and how she perceived the world. For that reason, she always got a little surprised by unexpected things. Feelings of suspense always had her nervous, and she found sudden things like plot twists and surprise trips somewhat unpleasant, at least in the beginning. 

Bungo said that her thoughts towards the oblivious were charming. He was always saying things like that, and it always had her heart fluttering. He was the type of person to notice the little things in life, little things just like how Belladonna didn't like suspense and how she settled her anxious feelings by reading the last page of a book first. She wondered what he'd noticed about their child, wondered about all the little things he'd stored up in his head that only he had seen. They were surely quite wonderful things. 

At times, she wished she had Bungo's ability to see those little things. What had he noticed that she was oblivious to? Had he seen something about Bilbo that could have been helped, or prevented? She ached to think that Bilbo might have felt pain of loneliness that could have been relieved if she'd just looked a little harder. He was such a good kid, she felt like it was her job to make sure he avoided unnecessary hurt. More than anything she just wanted him to feel accepted and loved, because her home and her arms where places he would always be able to return to, no matter what. To her, it didn't matter what kind of person he became, or what he looked like, or who he loved. She just wanted him to be strong and kind, and she wanted him to know that he would never be turned away. As time passed, she started to think that the light in his eyes he'd had as a child had grown a little dull, but it was still there. She knew that it was something so innocent and pure that it would likely disappear as he went through this turbulent period in his life, so to see it still there...

It gave her hope that her child would be alright in this cruel world. 

One night, when Thorin stayed over, he helped Belladonna clean up after dinner. Bilbo busied himself with changing and then setting up a movie for the two of them, so Belladonna was glad for the help. When she looked at Thorin that night, she recalled the morning she'd spent with Vis some months ago. The light had been bright that morning, but the world had seemed suspended in a state of chilled stillness. It was invigorating, as though she had walked into a completely different place altogether. That morning, Vis had crouched to watch the flowers along the quaint street they walked bloom, and she'd told Belladonna that Bilbo was the best thing to ever happen to Thorin. Seeing him now, Belladonna was struck with a similar feeling. 

"When did he tell you?" Belladonna asked suddenly as she scrubbed at a plate. Her voice was more curious than she intended, but she suddenly felt so intrigued that it startled her. "He has, hasn't he?"

It was more a placid statement than a question.

"His fifteenth birthday." Thorin answered quietly. He seemed meek all of a sudden, like he expected to be reprimanded.

Instead, Belladonna just smiled, and made a small noise. It'd been a while, then, before Bilbo had developed the courage to tell her. That knowledge left her feeling a little dismayed, but she couldn't blame him for it. So many parents out in the world rejected their children for not fitting a socially constructed stereotype. There were so many horrifying stories, and the worst part of it all was that a good majority of them were nothing but the truth. She couldn't feel upset with him knowing he'd likely heard of awful things, because he'd still told her. He was courageous, and mindlessly trustworthy. And even if she wasn't the first to know, she didn't mind too much. She couldn't.

"I'm glad he has someone like you." Belladonna said. She stilled her hands absently, and lifted her head to meet Thorin's eyes. "I really am." 

Thorin looked a little shocked at her confession, and seemed to be unable to form words. It made Belladonna chuckle, because even though he'd grown so much he could still be so childish, and still looking for guidance. That came from a lack of experience, and he would surely lose that childishness some time, but not in the near future. Maybe he'd be okay, one day, and he'd like who he'd become. For him, that was what she wished. Bilbo wished that for him, too. Belladonna was sure of it. He was getting more and more perceptive as every year passed, and she knew that he saw things in Thorin that no one else did. It was something that was as clear as the sky on a summer's day. If Belladonna were being completely honest, then she'd say that Bilbo was probably the person who knew Thorin the deepest, even more so than his mother. At times, it felt like Thorin knew Bilbo more than she did nowadays, too. Maybe that was why they never argued. 

But the age they were at was a dark one. She understood more than anyone the fear of adulthood and the reluctance of childhood - the stage of being in between those two unfavourable things was fraught with anger and sadness and loneliness. She didn't often see herself when she was Bilbo's age in her child, and for that she was extremely thankful.

No, she saw herself in Thorin. 

At times, he struggled. He was quiet and withdrawn, and Vis fretted over him like nothing else. Bilbo was always a little quieter, a little gentler, a little more cautious when Thorin was down. He wasn't obvious about it, but it was something that Belladonna thought Thorin might have noticed anyway. Somehow, Bilbo always cheered him up. 

But there were times when the anger had to dissipate first. It was something that built and built in Thorin like a dam fit to burst, and he seemed drowned by it. Bilbo had never come across true anger before, but Thorin's emotions were less anger and more irritation or frustration. At times his eyes seemed to scream "what do I do now?" because he was lost in a place he didn't recall entering. He looked like he didn't know what to do when he was like that, and that devastated Belladonna. She knew those feelings all too well, and Vis did too, but there wasn't much they could do for him except be there. No one would truly understand Thorin's troubles, not even Bilbo, because things like that were so deeply personal and so well buried that not even the person experiencing them fully understood what was happening. 

Belladonna didn't know what had started it, but she heard the worst of it. Vis, too, as they sat together drinking tea in the kitchen by the window.

"Why can't you just love me for who I am? I'm trying to help, Thorin!"

"I always have! This just isn't you, Bilbo, you can't help anymore! Stop trying, you're only making things worse!"

Belladonna's eyes widened at the sound of her child's voice. She stood, her hands trembling around her tea cup, but Vis latched onto her wrist before she could rush to Bilbo's side. She'd never heard him raise his voice like that. Never. 

She flinched when a sharp slap ricocheted through the rooms of her house.

Bilbo has never cried like he did that day. Belladonna consoled him on their porch, and tried to make sense of what had happened. Bilbo was tight-lipped about it all, not that he could talk through his huffs of breath in any case. He trembled in her arms, and stained her collar with dampness. His hand was still red with heat, and it probably stung. She'd never felt so riled up when she saw Bilbo so distraught. Her precious child was in pain and she couldn't do anything about it. She knew something like this would happen eventually - this heartache - but she still resented it. It was an inevitable prospect. 

But the two of them, Thorin and Bilbo, they couldn't stay mad at each other for long. Not when they were so close. It felt hopeless. 

"I'm sorry, Bilbo. I'm sorry." Thorin said, his voice just barely above a whisper, as he clutched at Bilbo's sweater. His head was bowed, and his shoulders were slumped. He was the picture of misery. 

Bilbo held him tightly. From her spot behind the doorway, Belladonna could see his face was still red from crying, and he looked tearful again. His knees seemed to shake, and for a moment she feared he'd just fall to the porch like a leaf shaken by the wind. Instead, his fingers fisted tighter in Thorin's jumper, and he pursed his lips. She wanted to go to him, but she knew she couldn't.

"I didn't mean it." Thorin whispered. His voice was hoarse, and rough. It hurt Belladonna's heart. "I didn't."

Bilbo pressed a hand to his face as his eyes started to drip thick tears again. His other hand jostled Thorin closer, where Thorin compliantly rested his head against Bilbo's collarbones and made himself seem as small as possible. "Just tell me when you're sad, okay?" Bilbo whispered in return. His voice shook, and was muffled where he had his hand rubbing across his eyes. "I want to hear your voice, Thorin."

Thorin seemed to wobble in Bilbo's arms, and tightened his hands in the sides of Bilbo's sweater. "Okay." He conceded. He sounded broken, worn down, like the cliffs beside a sea that was too rough too often. "Please don't hate me, Bilbo. I'm scared."

Bilbo inhaled deeply, and slowly relaxed his fingers to move them to Thorin's hair, where he gently pulled apart a knot before cupping the back of Thorin's head. "I could never, Thorin. I know you doubt that, but so long as I don't it will always be true."

Thorin could do nothing but nod his head.

"Remember what I told you, two years ago?" Bilbo murmured. "Remember what I said?"

"I do." Thorin replied on a shaky exhale.

"Good." Bilbo said simply, as he stroked Thorin's hair with careful, calm hands. Belladonna wondered what he'd told Thorin, what he'd said that was so important. But it could have been anything, if she thought about it. Bilbo said so many incredible things, and Thorin remembered so many of them. It was no wonder they were both able to recall the same thing from so long ago, as they sat taking comfort in each other's hold on a chilly night during the middle of winter. 

At seventeen years of age, Bilbo Baggins showed Thorin Oakenshield the value of humility.


	15. Stagnation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At eighteen years of age, Bilbo Baggins watched Thorin Oakenshield fall into idleness.

When Belladonna was just becoming an adult, she remembered that she drifted a lot. In her head her thoughts had stagnated after high school finished, and she hadn't been in the best frame of mind in the first place. It was a suffocating sort of idleness, and many people mistook it as interesting, as they believed the person was actually thinking. Rather, that sort of stagnation led to over-thinking, and it was never a broad series of thoughts. They were thoughts of oneself, and although it had led her to develop a deeper understanding of her character it had been torturous. To be stuck in such a still, deafening place, all alone... 

Ageing had, of course, dispelled the stillness eventually. Regardless of her personal plights, the sun had risen each morning and the world had continued to spin endlessly. In a way, realising that things could still grow and that she'd always be able to see an orange sky if she woke up early enough had helped her move on from her troubles. In the end, Bungo had helped too. She didn't often find herself drifting off like she once did, especially not after Bilbo had been born. She always made herself upset thinking of the time he would eventually leave her home, but it was inevitable, and it just meant she'd raised him well enough. He'd be able to survive in the world without her constant presence - that was what it meant. 

Sometimes she thought Bilbo might become idle, too. He planned to go to university, but didn't know what to do with himself as he suddenly became overwhelmed by free time. Of course, he ended up spending much of his time with Thorin. At this point in their lives, Belladonna hardly noticed it. They'd always been together, after all, and she thought that they'd been through a lot of things, dark things, which she hadn't seen. She wondered if they realised that they were always around one another, or if it had simply become second nature. It never seemed like they were aware of it, and both the Baggins household and the Oakenshield household had become accustomed to the constant presence of the both of them. Belladonna often set a place at the dinner table for Thorin, and he had his own bed sheets stored in the hallway cupboard. She was sure that Bilbo had the same thing afforded for him in Vis's home. It was a simple transition, one Belladonna couldn't pin the origin of. It seemed as though it had always been that way. 

There were times Belladonna caught a glimpse into the world that Bilbo and Thorin lived in. Like many people their age, their world was slowing down, recuperating. Belladonna believed that school and adolescence had not been kind to Thorin, and that he needed the down time more than anyone. Surprisingly, rather than taking the time to be alone, he recovered by Bilbo's side. The small glimpses that Belladonna saw into their worlds always fascinated her, because it was unlike anything she'd ever experienced. 

"It's like they still live in a place of make-believe." Belladonna once told Bungo as they sat together on the porch to watch the sunset. "Don't you think?"

Bungo hummed in agreement, and shifted the cup of tea in his hands absently. "Yes." He replied. "I suppose they deserve to drift for a bit now, after school."

Belladonna nodded in agreement. "Are you worried at all?"

"I am." Bungo said. "I don't want Bilbo become complacent, and Thorin seems a little down. I'm sure they'll be alright, eventually."

Bungo's words gave Belladonna something to think about. The more she thought about it, the more she started noticing the little things about her child, and about Thorin. They became more and more visible, until she thought she might be seeing what Bungo often saw. Of course, her small perceptions were nothing compared to what Bilbo saw in Thorin. Bilbo's eyes were always open, it seemed, and he'd known Thorin for so long. He would see through all of Thorin's masks, and he could very likely be capable of touching Thorin's heart unlike any other person. Belladonna often wondered if there was more to their relationship, but it was a concept that was difficult to wrap her head around. She struggled with comprehending how quickly her child had grown, and he'd never shown any particular romantic tendencies, so it was a foreign idea. Some days it was like Bilbo had drifted away all those years ago, like she'd never fully had a grip on his tether. Other days, it was him that kept her completely grounded, and he was the one to make the world seem beautiful again. He'd grown so much from that little baby she feared to let go of, and once again she was struck with feelings of protectiveness she felt unable to quell. 

"What shall we do today?" Bilbo asked Thorin one morning. He lay sprawled on the lounge room floor, his hair tousled, tangled up in quilts he'd dragged from his room. 

Thorin turned his head to glance at him from where he laid facing the opposite direction to Bilbo. He simply shrugged his shoulders, and turned his eyes back to the ceiling, looking content with the way he was buried in Bilbo's blankets. 

Bilbo sighed, and rolled over so that he was facing Thorin. Even though he was looking at Thorin upside-down, it didn't seem to bother him much. "What shall we do today?" He wondered. "And tomorrow, and the day after, and the next ten years?"

Thorin turned his head away.

Belladonna was overcome by a weighted feeling when he did that. He hardly ever turned away from Bilbo like that. It was like he couldn't bear to hear Bilbo's questions. There was something heavy in his eyes, and even as Bilbo reached out to touch his hair the look didn't go away. Belladonna found herself clutching at her heart because it was hurting so much. She thought that maybe this was what burdened Vis so often, this sense of pain at how lost Thorin was becoming. If only she could show him the right path to go down, but not even she knew which way that was. It was frustrating, and she felt swallowed by hopelessness. He needed help, and she couldn't offer it. What was she supposed to do, aside from watch and hope that he didn't stumble and fall? She felt devastated, because she knew Bilbo was struggling with it, too. He was still too young, too inexperienced, and although he tried his best she knew he feared it would someday not be enough. 

Still, Bilbo put a smile on his face, and gently carded his fingers through Thorin's hair. They spent the entire morning like that, and although Bilbo seemed restless with inactivity he never complained or forced Thorin into action. Rather, he settled further into his blankets and made himself comfortable with his hand in Thorin's thick hair. It was an oddly intimate thing to do, and reminded Belladonna just how considerate and kind-hearted her child was turning out to be. He cared for Thorin so deeply, and wanted to know him from the inside out. Belladonna knew that Bilbo wanted to show Thorin the world he saw, but that might have been impossible. The state of Thorin's world, after all, was starting to fall into decay. 

At eighteen years of age, Bilbo Baggins watched Thorin Oakenshield fall into idleness.


	16. Stonewall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At nineteen years of age, Bilbo Baggins watched Thorin Oakenshield struggle to endure.

As Bilbo started venturing out into the world, Belladonna always thought back to his adventurous childhood. Bilbo have loved to explore, and always enjoyed the walks they took as a family after dinner every evening. Belladonna had entire albums full of photos of Bilbo on his little adventures, from trips they took to the beach and to Grandma's house and even into the backyard when the seasons shifted and suddenly everything was snowy or covered in orange leaves of flourishing with springtime flowers. He'd had no shortcomings when it came to adventures, and although they had slowed as he aged, Belladonna still found him wistfully discovering new places to go and things to see. 

In a way, she thought that he was incapable of accepting the idea of finiteness. He didn't seem to want to find the end of anything, and was always greedily searching for more. Astoundingly, it was as though the world listened to his wishes and offered him new things to experience. She wondered if it would ever stop, and if Bilbo was capable of understanding that infinity may not have been what he was truly searching for. Somehow she thought that maybe his entire life had become an adventure, now - or maybe it had always been, and she hadn't noticed. The adventure would continue to move on without end, just like the way the sun rose and fell regardless of what happened to the people and places it laid its rays upon. 

Having a child had shown her that life was not a series of progressions or facts that could be lined up and viewed in a proper order, but rather a collection of scattered transformations. Some were rapid, immediate and shocking, like the death of a loved one or winning the lottery or a bad diagnosis. Others yet were so slow they were imperceptible, like saving up for a house and learning deeply about one's self and the growth of a precious child. In either case, they were truly horrifying transformations, many of which were fought in vain against as to be human was to rebel against complete things like time and illness and the inevitable. Children wished to be adults, to be independent and to be believed. Adults, however, wished to be children, to be free from responsibilities and to be blind to the cruelness of the real world. 

Bilbo didn't read fairy tales much anymore. Someday he'd be old enough to start reading them again, but for now he was at a stage where it was improbable. No matter how much Belladonna believed he still lived in his own world, she knew that he was well aware of reality and all the responsibilities he faced. He wasn't young enough to know everything, but too old to know nothing. So many people believed that with age wisdom was gained, but seeing Bilbo grow and prosper made Belladonna think that wasn't quite true. Although it was known that knowledge certainly did gather the longer one lived, she believed that wisdom was something that was formed during childhood. It was like a delicate glass object, perched atop a child's head, and so long as the child was carefully guided through the years it wouldn't fall. That was what parents were there for, to pick up and dust off their child so that they may safely return to a world that wished to entangle them. If anything should happen, anything dark, then the glass would shatter and wisdom would be further out of reach than ever before. 

She knew that Bilbo was still capable of seeing new things and learning new things and going on adventures. She knew it. Thorin, however... He struggled more, and as each year passed it seemed as if the weight of the world only grew heavier. It relented, of course, in Bilbo's presence, but when left to his own devices it seemed that Thorin couldn't fight against misery and loneliness. Belladonna knew that the way Thorin had been raised had a lot to do with it. Vis had struggled for a long time, and that had left Thorin somewhat isolated. More than that, however, had been Thrain's absence, for when Thorin had needed someone to turn to while Vis recuperated he had had no one other than Bilbo. And even with the most stunning smile in the world, Bilbo hadn't been able to shine enough light for Thorin to see, and that was no fault of his. He had been just a child, they both had. 

The more Belladonna learned about Bilbo, the more she started to learn about Thorin. It was a looping feedback mechanism, like their lives were intricately and intimately spun together. Through Bilbo, Belladonna could see how much Thorin was struggling. Through his gentle touches and worried frowns, she could see the paleness of Thorin's skin and just how dark and deep the circles under his eyes where. When Bilbo left his light on all night, glowing softly around the cracks in his shut bedroom door, she knew it was because he was stubbornly keeping Thorin company until Thorin fell asleep, even if that mean he stayed up all night because Thorin's dreams were plagued with restlessness and insecurity. 

It was torturous to watch, and she had a sick feeling that it would only get worse at this rate.

She knew that Bilbo ached to help Thorin. He wanted Thorin to smile and laugh and talk, and he wanted Thorin to learn how to love. In Bilbo, she saw her kind-hearted Bungo. In Thorin, she saw parts of herself. Regardless of that, she knew that Bilbo cared more deeply for Thorin than possibly anyone else, and that he only wanted what was best for Thorin. She understood Bilbo's desire to help him, and believed that he would do anything he could if he thought Thorin would benefit him, regardless of the consequences to himself or to others. She knew that her child had grown to a point where he was starting to value certain things over others, rather than trying to maintain a sense of equality. 

For Thorin, she was sure he would do anything, even if it meant hurting himself in the end. 

At nineteen years of age, Bilbo Baggins watched Thorin Oakenshield struggle to endure.


	17. Senescence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At twenty years of age, Thorin Oakenshield showed Bilbo Baggins that the world was full of cruelty.

Thorin disappeared for a few months. 

Rather, it was more like his mind became obsolete, and absent. More than anything, Belladonna noticed his such absence. He didn't come over often, and she was sure she went several weeks without hearing his voice. It was like he'd faded somehow, like parts of him had fled and left nothing but a blankness in their wake. He was suffering. He was lonely. He was in pain.

And none of them knew how to fix him.

But Bilbo tried. He really did. He was utterly lost without Thorin, and to suddenly be on his own, without Thorin there... Belladonna thinks that saw the first time Bilbo really saw the world for what it was. For a little while, she feared that he too would disappear. He'd only just started exploring the world, only just started living his adult life, and now he'd lost sight of the future he'd laid out before himself. She feared for him. Feared for Thorin, too. He'd grown into such a courageous person, but there were things even courage couldn't overcome. She thought he might have truly vanished forever, if not for Bilbo's persistence.

And oh how persistent her child was. Although Thorin hadn't physically disappeared, the shine in his eyes had gone. He'd lost faith in something, and though it was by no fault of Bilbo, her child took the blame on himself completely. He persisted after Thorin, and when his affections were no longer recuperated he gained a furrow in his brow. Just like Thorin, he became quieter, because for the first time in his life he wasn't able to help someone he cared deeply for. All his gentle touches and bright smiles and the warmth of his hands was no longer enough to chase away the lingering darkness that suffocated Thorin. When Thorin suffered, so did Bilbo. There were nights when Bilbo sought out Belladonna's comfort like he once did as a child. She'd hold him, and if he so happened to tremble she would pretend he didn't. 

"I don't know how to help him." Bilbo said. "I don't know what he's feeling. I don't understand."

"That's alright, Bilbo." Belladonna had replied. "He doesn't expect you to. Tell him you don't, because that's what he wants to hear."

"How can you know that?"

She smiled ruefully. "It's what your father told me."

Back then, she'd been so lost in the waves of misplaced sympathy she received that hearing Bungo tell her that he didn't understand had been so relieving she'd cried. That was before they were completely together, and therefore she had been sobbing as he tried to physically comfort her probably for the first time. He'd been so awkward then, inexperienced with physical affection, but his touches were kind and soft and everything she didn't know she wanted. He'd been able to comprehend that her troubles were her own, and he understood that his perception of them would never be what she was actually seeing. That was all she'd wanted. After that, she'd been able to heal. In a way, the stories Bungo told her in hopes of cheering her up had shown her that were was still light to be seen in the world. His smile had been so soft, and he was sure to use words and expressions that she could understand as being happy. He'd shown her that there could still be things in the world that could fill her heart, starting with himself. 

But Bilbo couldn't be Bungo. He didn't have the same experience Bungo did, and his relationship with Thorin was different. It was an intimate affair, one Belladonna couldn't wrap her head around. To Bilbo, Thorin's expressions had all become ones that were neither the truth nor a lie, and he'd thus become unable to grasp their meaning. He shivered and cowered in the face of something that he wasn't even facing, as if he were screaming "don't look at me like that" because he couldn't stand the darkness that was descending. With every night that ended and day that began, he became more of a fool. He could understand that something was amiss, but he couldn't understand why he was no longer special to Thorin. It was as though he'd gained a face that was just the same as everybody else's. 

It hurt Belladonna to see him think that way. The image of him, curled up against his bed with his face in his hands, was burned into her mind forever. In that, she could see that Bilbo felt isolated, like he was stuck behind a wall he couldn't see, unable to hear or touch or comfort Thorin. It was like he too had become a victim of something unimaginably agonizing.

He was not alone in his agony. Vis ached for Thorin more than anyone, and suffered over his sadness. Her world was collapsing, and although she tried in vain to shield her other children from Thorin's agony it was something that trickled down. Frerin and Dis were no longer too young to understand what Thorin went through, and on more than one occasion she saw them with Thorin, almost like silent guards. He appreciated their company, no doubt, but his protectiveness towards them had him pushing them away. It was the same with Bilbo, because Thorin wasn't blind enough to be oblivious towards Bilbo's despair, but he wasn't strong enough to keep Bilbo away. It was a never ending cycle of grief, one that was like the eternal rising and setting of the sun. Bilbo no longer watched it with fascination, or watched it at all. Maybe it didn't look quite the same without Thorin, and that wasn't something Belladonna would ever understand. Where had her child's dreams gone? Where had his mind drifted, his thoughts wondered? What mask had he set up to hide his emotions, and what mask could possibly be so thick that it was like they no longer existed at all? 

One day, she thought a crack might have appeared in that impenetrable mask.

"You're a liar." Bilbo told Thorin. His voice was just a whisper. They say on the edge of the porch, just in hearing range from where Vis and Belladonna sat silent at the kitchen table. There was a distance between them, more than any Belladonna had ever seen. The summer sunlight cast their shadows darkly, until they became nothing but silhouettes. It was nostalgic, somehow, to see them like that. It reminded her of how much they'd grown.

Thorin couldn't reply to Bilbo. It was like words had left his mind, or like he couldn't think of the right ones to say. Perhaps he just couldn't say them, not to Bilbo. Instead, he watched the ground, and his hands tightened on his elbows. He was such a tall person - his shoulders were wide, and his back was strong, but he looked so weak. Thorin could see the sky bending to the point of collapsing above his head, and there were no words he could use to describe it, not to someone like Bilbo who saw the sky and only thought of the endless possibilities for greatness it offered.

"Don't you get it?" Bilbo whispered. He unfolded his legs, and his shape shifted. He leaned over, balancing on one hand, to outstretch the other. He had to reach over the distance between them, but still his fingertips came to brush along Thorin's neck. "Whatever this is, it's strangling you. I can't bear it, Thorin. Can't you hear it in my voice? Can't you see it in my eyes?" He paused, and glanced down for a moment. His hand passed up, and then his palm was covering Thorin's eyes, like a mask. "Can't you understand what I'm saying?"

Thorin couldn't.

"The real you is loved." Bilbo said. "I... I don't want to be too late, so I'll say it. I think the words I'm saying will make it in time. I- I know I've hurt you, but even if it's scary, or if you're sad... If that's the real you, then I love that person, okay?"

At twenty years of age, Thorin Oakenshield showed Bilbo Baggins that the world was full of cruelty.


	18. Submergence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At twenty-one years of age, Bilbo Baggins helped Thorin Oakenshield start to heal.

As the year progressed, Bilbo started to disappear.

Belladonna's child was becoming an adult, after all. He had adult things to worry over these days, and those were things Belladonna couldn't completely help with. She understood that he had to do things for himself now, but giving her child complete independence was a saddening thought. It was as though he no longer needed her, and she knew that wasn't it, but her heart couldn't understand that her child had grown into someone that could live on in the world without the shelter of a mother's arms. It was as though all the years she spent watching him grow had not been so long after all, because before her stood an intelligent adult with a careful, warm smile and gentle hands. She had hardly noticed when he'd grown to her height, or when his features had filled out into what they would be for the rest of his life. She was so proud of him, and she believed in him completely, but she couldn't help but want to do so many things for him still. 

Bilbo spent a lot of time with Thorin. It was as though he feared leaving Thorin alone, now that he could see the realness of Thorin's problem. He was a constant presence by Thorin's side, one that was often silent but strong and most importantly real. He was very tender with Thorin, but not overbearing, or condescending. More than anything, she thought that Bilbo just wanted Thorin to see the world through clear eyes once again. It was such a trivial thing, but for Bilbo to wish it so fiercely... She couldn't fault him. He'd only ever looked for the best in the world, and for it to turn on someone he cared so deeply for, she was sure it would have tarnished his view.

One night, when Thorin was over - he was visiting less than he used to, but he was still there, and that was what mattered - she heard Bilbo say something that wouldn't leave her mind. In a way, she finally understood how Thorin felt when Bilbo outstretched his hand to offer Thorin a place beside him at the aquarium all those years ago, where he stood in the light of something true and great and hopeful. Bilbo and Thorin were sitting on the bench outside, but their shoulders didn't touch, and their hands weren't connected. Cold puffs of air periodically emerged from their lips, and that was all Belladonna had to convince her that time hadn't stopped. "I'm happy you're here." Bilbo had suddenly said, as snow started to fall from the sky like tiny white wisps of memory. "I had all, then most of you. Some-" He paused, like his throat was getting tight, but he stubbornly refused to let himself cry. "And then none of you. Whatever you can offer me, Thorin, it will be enough." He tightened his fingers where they lay intertwined on his lap, and bowed his head. "Just don't leave me altogether." 

His view of the world may have been tarnished, but her child still watched the night sky, and he still looked like he might drift away at times. His eyes were still bright, and his smile was still warm. She looked at him, and she still saw the little boy who watched the ocean on an overcast day with a truly peaceful expression. He'd never worn a mask. 

However, he understood that Thorin had. Belladonna thought that that was what hurt Bilbo the most, and the pain he felt wouldn't be so quick to dissipate. It would linger, and strike when he was alone, and for that she was fearful. Bilbo had never experienced that particular type of heartache before, but it was one she knew well. To know that Thorin had been hurt, Bilbo would in some way take the blame for himself. She could see it in him already, a brooding sort of bitterness at his inability to help Thorin. That's all he'd ever wanted, she thought. Just Thorin.

To her, their relationship had become a mystery. It was difficult for her to comprehend their interactions, their remarks - mostly, she believed, because she had watched them grow up. She couldn't differentiate casual displays of affection from something more, and she didn't know what to think when she saw them together. There would be no way for her to know until her child told her, and she didn't think it was something he had ever noticed. They'd always been together. Bilbo probably thought they always would be. For his sake, she hoped that that would become true. She just wanted him to become happy.

After a while, she noticed that the tension that suffocated everyone started to dip off and plateau. A quietness submerged them, deepest of all Bilbo and Thorin. It seemed like Thorin's heart was starting to be soothed, and he was beginning to breathe again. He relied so heavily on Bilbo that even Belladonna could see how much the world weighed upon him. Even so, Bilbo never wavered, and endlessly offered Thorin something to lean against. Every time Thorin seemed as though he would fall, as though he would fail again, Bilbo would carefully take his hands and steady him. He guided Thorin to a place where the light was shining, and even if Thorin lingered in the shadows Bilbo never criticised him. He was patient, and kind, and open. He was as honest as the human condition allowed him to be, and as honest as he thought he could be while sparing Thorin's feelings. He was careful never to blame Thorin, and to always assure him that whatever he was feeling was validated. Eventually, he consoled Thorin into a state where he was less afraid to tell Bilbo what he was feeling, because it didn't make him feel weak, or fragile. To have Bilbo validate his feelings for no other reason than because he felt them made Thorin feel safe around Bilbo, and that was the most important thing her child could do for his companion. 

"I don't know what else I can do for him." Bilbo murmured as he sat hunched over their kitchen bench. 

Belladonna offered him a cup of tea to warm his hands. "I think you've done enough." She said. "You've made him believe in you."

Bilbo watched her with wavering eyes. He seemed to want to believe her, but she knew he felt inadequate. She could see it in the hunch of his shoulders, and the way his fingers trembled around his teacup. "I..." He started, before lowering his eyes. "I just... I really love him, you know? And he's so sad."

Belladonna paused, and closed her eyes. She remembered Bungo once telling her that exact same thing - "I love you so much, and you're so sad, and that makes my heart hurt." To think her child would have to face something so painful and out of her reach saddened her, and yet he still somehow managed to smile like the sun could heal the world. It was a very selfless thing to do, so she wrapped him in her arms and kissed his forehead like she used to when he was much smaller than her and hoped that her comfort would be enough to keep him strong.

At twenty-one years of age, Bilbo Baggins helped Thorin Oakenshield start to heal.


	19. Sincerity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At twenty-two years of age, Bilbo Baggins gave Thorin Oakenshield a means to sincerity.

One night, Belladonna took it upon herself to watch the stars in the same way Bilbo had when he was a child. She took his favoured place on the porch where her legs dangled over the garden bed, and tilted her head back so she could see the endless expanse of the sky above her. She tried to imagine that her eyes were a little brighter, and that she was perhaps a few inches shorter so that she had to tilt up her head even more. From here, the stars seemed impossibly unforgiving. In a way, she could understand how he’d become so enamoured with the sky. The longer she looked, the more her shoulders relaxed, and the wider her eyes got. As time passed, she felt lighter in her heart, and she suddenly wondered why, as one aged, they stopped looking up and needlessly ended up sad.

When the leaves started to turn orange, and all the flower petals from spring and summer had scattered with the wind, Bilbo left her home. The first night in an empty nest was the coldest thing she’d felt in a very long time. Knowing that her child wouldn’t return to his childhood bedroom, that she’d only need to set the table for two, that Bilbo’s special tea mug would sit in the cupboard until he visited rather than on the bench where it was frequently used… It made her unreasonably sad. She sat huddled in her husband’s arms, of which were softer than they had been when they’d met, and wondered if Bilbo would truly be okay. She had an inkling deep down in her heart that he would be, but being his mother had become her entire world. Without him, she felt like a part of her was missing, and now she had a gap that she needed to fill. Hobbies seemed pointless when her child had become such an important part of her life. What was she to do, now that he no longer needed her to care for him? Would he remember to change his sheets, and to use the right amount of liquid detergent? What if he didn’t buy the right foods, or if something in his home broke and Bungo wasn’t around to repair it? Even so, when Bilbo rang her in the middle of the night, she told him that she believed in him, and that he’d be alright. As long as he’d made sure to lock the doors, and as long as he knew that he would always be welcome back, she felt at ease.

It was an unsurprising fact that Thorin lived with Bilbo. They had a small apartment, and the rent was manageable. Belladonna visited regularly, and Vis did too. It was nice to see their furnishings, and the small decorations that they put in place so it felt like home. They had a hook for their keys by the door, where a small fish keychain regularly hung. There were photo frames on the walls, too, and pretty white curtains hanging over the windows that they’d gone shopping for. Their dishware was pattered with little yellow flowers, and she had no doubts that Bilbo had given Thorin a pleading look until he’d given in to letting Bilbo buy them. After a while, their house started feeling warm, and the dark corners weren’t so frightening anymore. It seemed as though the change of environment was comforting to Thorin, like he had room to breathe deeply and clearly now. His skin wasn’t so pale anymore, and his eyes were more alert. He didn’t seem so fragile.

Recently, Belladonna had spent a lot of her free time with Vis. The woman still had her other two children to worry about, but there were times when she allowed herself to take a break. Often, they took a walk through the neighbourhood. Belladonna appreciated the exercise, because her back wasn’t quite what it used to be and sometimes her hips hurt like she’d been hunched over for too long, and the walking helped keep her active. Sometimes they went to have coffee at a local café, and other times they went to visit their children. One night, during the summer, they went to go do just that, but in the end they hadn’t gone inside.

The night had been warm, with a breeze that seemed to do nothing but shuffle around humid air. Belladonna distinctly remembered the sound of the summer cicadas, and how the sun hadn’t gone down until it was well past eight o’ clock in the evening. Her child’s home was visible from the street – really, the building was more like small houses stacked together rather than high-rise apartments. It wouldn’t be a forever-home, but for now it offered the two of them exactly what they needed. It had wide windows that faced the street, and as Vis and Belladonna approached the sound of soothing music drifted through. The windows were pushed wide open, she saw, and the light from inside the living room shone brightly and invitingly. As she’d moved into view, the sight that she came across had started to fill the emptiness in her heart.

They’d pushed the furniture back so that there was space enough to move freely. She couldn’t see where the music came from, but it was soft and upbeat and reminded her of the little flowers painted on their dinner plates. Somehow, Bilbo had managed to convince Thorin to dance. He held one of Thorin’s hands firmly, and had placed Thorin’s other hand on the small of his back. Although he seemed to have taken the submissive role, he was leading Thorin, who awkwardly stumbled every now and then. It only made Bilbo laugh, and the longer he had Thorin spin him around the more intimate it became.

Thorin couldn’t take his eyes off of Bilbo.

For a moment, neither could Belladonna. He was so happy in that moment that it was like nothing could bother him, not the lingering heat of a midsummer’s day, nor the mosquitoes that buzzed around, or even the way they were exposed to the street. His smile looked so unabashed, so open and sincere. He had not a care in the world, and once more Belladonna realised that that was because he’d created one of his own.

When she’d turned her head to face Vis, her friend had a warm, sparkling look in her eyes. “Shall we go?” Belladonna asked quietly, as a smile touched her lips.

“Mmm.” Vis closed her eyes for a moment, looking eased, and together they both turned away. 

At twenty-two years of age, Bilbo Baggins gave Thorin Oakenshield a means to sincerity.


	20. Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At twenty-three years of age, Bilbo Baggins gave Thorin Oakenshield a bright, new beginning.

Change was something that Belladonna often thought about, these days. It was something that was utterly and irrevocably intricate, and in many ways it felt fruitlessly permanent. Of course, that was a trick of the mind, but a convincing one nevertheless. Some changes were easily corrected, like a mistake that needed rubbing out on paper, a misspelled word, hair dyed the wrong colour. Other changes, however, were harder to fix, like the way time changed skin and how fire could destroy something precious and when hearts were broken. Scars, they were the physical marks of change, and were often invisible. They healed, and shrunk with time, but were easily replaced. They built atop one another, over and over and over, leaving nothing but a mangled heart in their wake.

Humans were fickle creatures. They feared change, but craved it, and were only situationally appreciative of its affects. She herself was guilty of such an attitude, because while she appreciated how her child had grown she missed the times when he was younger. Of course, that wasn’t the only thing she was guilty of missing. There were a lot of things that she wished change hadn’t altered, but she found it taxing to linger on them. A lot of them were superficial, and many were things that would be difficult to revert.

Frerin turned eighteen, and their little families went to celebrate it by the sea. It was a warm day, but not particularly sunny. There was a picnic area behind the sand dunes, and in the shade of tall trees they laid down blankets and food and celebrated. The sound of the ocean was rhythmic and calming, and many times Belladonna thought this would be a good place to relax with a book one day. Bilbo seemed to enjoy being in this place too, and although he spent most of his time chatting with Thorin and the two younger teens, she felt closer to him that she had in a while. He smiled happily, and spoke of things that were casual and light-hearted. It was a pleasant atmosphere. 

After lunch, Bilbo stood to stretch. He was watching the ocean curiously, with eyes that were waiting to see a marvellous view. She thought that in that moment she had been the only one to see such a look on his face. He looked like he wanted to go on adventure.

But Thorin had seen. Thorin was always watching him, but he had a hesitance to him that he had never been able to overcome, not without a bit of prompting. That was one thing Belladonna had thought would never change, but change, just like humans, could be a fickle thing. It could happen when least expected, as long as a person realised that they could move their own feet – and even if that was a struggle, they continued to walk, and then change would begin to take effect. In a way, she hadn’t expected Thorin to ever become adjusted to such a thing, as many people didn’t.

But it seemed as though he ultimately had.

“Thorin, let’s go down to the shore.” Bilbo said, as he offered both his hand and a kind smile. With a smile like that, he could change the world. 

Belladonna was struck with a sense of nostalgia at that. For a moment, she was overcome by the need to do something, to prompt Thorin forwards like she’d done all those years ago at the aquarium. That had been her expectation. However, Thorin reacted differently. Without a moment of hesitation, and purposefully, he pulled himself up and took Bilbo’s hand. Like that, they were gone, and Belladonna was left staring at the place they’d been with a strange flurrying in her heart. 

“He’s changed.” Bungo suddenly said.

Belladonna glanced at him, and found his eyes to be quite rueful. He was watching Bilbo head off towards where the sand met the ocean - two completely different worlds merging - with a forlorn look, and she abruptly realised that he too was sad over how age had changed their child. He missed reading Bilbo stories, and being able to carry Bilbo on his shoulders. He missed the closeness that they had once had when Bilbo was much smaller, too. She thought he might have missed how young and carefree Thorin once was as well. 

Somehow, it left her feeling reassured. “He has.” She agreed. They had both changed, and for now it was for the better. 

When Belladonna thought back to that day, one of the things that lingered in her mind was the image of Bilbo and Thorin standing in the shallow waves. She remembered seeing that exact thing so many years ago when Bilbo was a child, but now he was taller, and he was bigger, and he had Thorin holding onto his hand. From his place, with his toes wriggled deep into the wet sand and the bottoms of his shorts rolled up, she was sure he saw a view that was as magnificent as he had hoped it would be. 

In a way, Belladonna started to understand that Bilbo had always been changing. He had never been the type to linger in a place that was too small for him to grow, and as such his adventures had become a starting place for which change took place. He seemed to understand that change wouldn’t come to him if he waited for some other time, or for a person, or for a feeling. He’d known that, she realised, before she’d even come to comprehend the ways of change. He’d sought out – and found – something she would never be able to find. Those thoughts somehow put her at ease, even if they were a little scary. 

He truly had grown up, it seemed. He’d changed reality to see it through his own eyes like it had been nothing, and he’d created a day-dream that Thorin could live peacefully in, too, as long as he didn’t leave Bilbo’s side. It was a shining future once more.

At twenty-three years of age, Bilbo Baggins gave Thorin Oakenshield a bright, new beginning.


	21. Settle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At twenty-four years of age, Bilbo Baggins gave Thorin Oakenshield a piece of his past.

The first time Belladonna read a piece of Bilbo’s work that had been published, she’d felt a stirring in her heart unlike any other. He was only working at a small company for the time being, but nevertheless she had a physical copy of his passion in her hands, and like a stamp of approval his name was at the bottom of the page. Bilbo hadn’t really shown her any of his writing during the time he was growing up, but now she was free to read it as she wished. To know that he was carving a path for him in this cruel world set her mind at ease. He really was such a strong boy.

She knew that the work he did for the company wasn’t the only thing he’d been working on. During his leisure time, he wrote more freely, and that was what she knew everyone would come to love reading. Once, she’d asked him what it was about, as she sat at his kitchen counter and watched him labour over his writing. He’d only offered her a gentle smile, and said, “It’s a story of adventures. It’s something everyone will come to enjoy, I hope – something that children can dream of, and something that adults can reminisce over. Wouldn’t that be great?”

“And those in between?” She’d asked.

Bilbo hummed, and turned his eyes back to his writing, though he didn’t turn his face away. “Those people… They need to find a place for themselves, don’t they? I don’t know if what I write can help them, or offer them anything other than an escape. If that’s all I can do, then I’ll be happy.”

She didn’t know where he came up with those dreams, or how it was even possible for a mere human to recognise them for what they were. She remembered how often she’d thought he would do something great when she watched him as a child, and although he’d gotten older and those thoughts had lessened, she was starting to think them frequently again. Writing, to Bilbo, was a way to connect to people that couldn’t see the sky and hadn’t felt the warmth of gentle hands in a long time, if ever. He knew that there were people like that out there, and deep down Belladonna knew that saddened him. He wished to connect with people, even superficially, and to him writing offered him a way to do so. She thought that he believed that he could be the sunshine for everyone who lived where it only rained. To connect and to comfort was his greatest desire, and that was more than she could have ever wished for him.

Thorin had different desires. Now that Belladonna saw him less, she thought she had a clearer view of him. Looking from the outside, but with intimate knowledge of his character, she thought that he was a very cold person. He wished to survive, and to find a place where he could belong, where he could call home. Even so, she knew that he still had warmth blossoming in his glass heart. In a way, she could sympathise with his vulnerabilities, because she had once suffered from the same self-inflicted torment. To Thorin, the world had victimised him, and by his own hand he’d worsened the blows. In his eyes, she could see that he believed that the damage he’d felt had caused wounds on those who he valued closely. She remembered, once again, the time when she first told Bungo that she loved him, and how she’d been blind to the wounds he quietly burdened until that moment. 

Still, she knew the healing process was beginning. It would certainly be tedious, but what other reasonable choice did they have but to continue on? Some days, she didn’t hear from Bilbo at all, and she knew that those were the days when silence was thick and constant. But, as with Bilbo’s nature, it never lasted long. As the months rolled on, Belladonna accepted Bilbo’s absence in her home, and became accustomed to the way their interactions now played out. She had no doubt in her mind that Bilbo would always remain close to herself and Bungo, and in doing so Bilbo allowed Thorin the chance to remain close to his own family, as well. Undeniably, he was strong for Thorin, too. 

When Dis turned seventeen, Bilbo and Thorin took her and Frerin to the aquarium. Belladonna thought that her child must have had a strong connection to that place, and she knew that Thorin remembered it with a fondness that was unforgettable. Belladonna had spent the day with Vis setting up dinner for when the children returned – over the years, they’d made it a tradition to celebrate birthdays with both families, not unlike those related by blood would do. She’d watched, at one point in the day, when Vis had lost herself to her thoughts as she sat by the dining table cradling a somewhat worn and tea-stained mug in her hands. 

“Sea butterflies, huh?” She’d remarked with a small laugh. 

Vis had only smiled light-heartedly, and placed away the mug with the rest of the cleaned and dried dishes. She didn’t often get a glassy look in her eyes anymore, and seemed more at ease with both her children and herself. After Thorin started looking up again, she did too. Every day she looked a little healthier, despite the wrinkles forming around her eyes and the way her hands sometimes trembled uncontrollably, even with a calm demeanour. 

Towards the evening, when their children still weren’t due home for another hour or so, Vis and Belladonna took a moment to relax on the couch. After a moment, Vis’s phone started to buzz, and over a steaming cup of tea Belladonna watched her answer it. At her cheerful laugh, Belladonna gave her a curious look.

“Dis is sending me pictures she took today.” Vis explained. “The boys didn’t realise she’d taken most of them, it seems. How devious of her.”

After a moment, Vis’s expression went soft, and she quietly handed her phone to Belladonna. Intrigued, Belladonna placed down her teacup and took the phone. The photo that remained on the screen, for a moment, blinded her. She felt her eyes widen as a rush of sounds and smells rushed over her mind – vivid memories suddenly seemed so real, but within a moment she found herself back on earth staring at the phone like nothing had happened. 

In the photo, Bilbo and Thorin stood in front of the same fish tank they had all those years ago. The enclosure was a little different, of course, with different fish and new glass edges. Somehow, to her eyes, it looked the same, and the only things that had changed were the children. Their silhouettes were completely distinguishable now – Thorin was much taller than Bilbo, and broader, with longer legs. Bilbo’s curly hair was more visible, as was the softer shape of his body. Even in the photo Belladonna could tell their hands were intertwined, and they stood so close that their shoulders touched. Thorin had his head bent down like he was trying to be smaller, like he wanted to be closer to Bilbo, but her child – ever the dreamer – was so focused on the view before him he seemed unable to help but sweeping Thorin up in it all. 

It truly was a magnificent view. 

At twenty-four years of age, Bilbo Baggins gave Thorin Oakenshield a piece of his past.


	22. Subsequent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At twenty-five years of age, Bilbo Baggins gave Thorin Oakenshield a piece of his future.

Belladonna had never really considered Bilbo’s future when he was a child. She knew that many parents had a future in mind for their children, one that often included marriage and a brilliant job and grandchildren for them to fawn over. She supposed she had always hoped Bilbo would end up happy, but she’d never acquainted things like that with her child’s future. To her, he had always been destined to do something great, and all other tangents of his life didn’t matter so long as he turned out healthy and full of joy. She wouldn’t say that he’d turned out as he had because of her, because she thought most of his character had come from Bilbo himself. Somehow, he’d become quite a radiant person.

Now, however, his future was taking shape, and she found herself unable to look away. His writing was quickly gaining attention – it was truly mesmerizing, after all – and his home was starting to become clearer. People his age were all forging ahead to find a comfortable place for themselves in the world, and in that respect her child was completely typical. As each year passed, his friends began to do things that parents often dreamed for their children, like getting engaged and buying a house and having a child. Only when that started happening did Belladonna begin to scrutinise Bilbo’s future more closely. He’d never seemed to have a romantic partner, and had never spoken of marriage or children. She wondered what he wanted from life, and for a while only thing would ever come to her mind.

Thorin.

The older he got, the more of an enigma he became. Belladonna found herself puzzled at the memories she had from the times she believed she understood him. He was changing so rapidly now, like he was making up for the times when he was stagnant. He wasn’t physically growing anymore, but in every other aspect it was like he couldn’t stop. There were times when Belladonna still feared greatly for him, as though there was something infinitely dark and consuming waiting for him to wander closer. At times like that, she had to remind herself that Bilbo would be there to guide him by the hand towards a place where they could watch the stars together. Deep in her heart, she knew that Bilbo would always be there for Thorin. He always had been, hadn’t he? 

She wondered if there had been something more to their relationship all these years. If she were being perfectly honest, she wouldn’t be surprised if there had been. Any time Bilbo had gotten close to someone, he always ended up straying back to Thorin’s side, as though gravity had been created just to keep the two of them together. She didn’t know if Bilbo would ever tell her what had truly been happening between Thorin and himself all these years, and although it frustrated her a little she could understand where he was coming from. Bilbo’s life was his own, and as a parent she had to make sure she didn’t intrude into places where she wasn’t welcome.

As the year progressed, Belladonna’s thoughts strayed towards her child’s romantic inclinations more and more. She thought about him meeting a girl, and marrying her, and it didn’t feel right in her heart. All in all, it was extremely difficult to picture, and even if that girl’s gender was changed she still couldn’t find a place for that image in Bilbo’s future. Maybe he and Thorin were meant to be together after all, but was there anything romantic there? The more she thought on it, the more she struggled to separate the casualness of their relationship from something more. She often thought about asking Bungo, because he would surely know, but she always dismissed the idea. That felt too invasive, like she was gaining dirty information on her child that maybe he didn’t want her to find out. The distance that moving out had created between them was giving Belladonna the opportunity to clearly observe their relationship, and it helped her maintain a sense of closeness despite the absence of Bilbo’s presence in her home.

One morning, when Belladonna was once again spending her time with Vis, her mind strayed to their children, and she asked, “What do you think their relationship is?”

Vis, for the most part, looked quite startled at the question. Her eyes had flickered for a moment, and then she seemed unable to meet Belladonna’s gaze. “I… Without Bilbo, I don’t think Thorin would be who he is today.” She said carefully. “There’s a possibility, that in another universe, he wouldn’t be here at all, without your child. I feel like he’s limited Bilbo’s options for a future.”

It wasn’t exactly the answer Belladonna had been looking for, but it certainly gave her something to think about. In some circumstances she would have agreed with Vis, because if Bilbo had not become friends with Thorin all those years ago he certainly would have turned out different. He spent so much of his thoughts and his feelings on Thorin that there wasn’t all too much left to share with others, and that could be considered as something negative. “What do you make of it now, though? Their future.”

“I suppose they don’t have a separate one anymore, huh…” Vis murmured to herself. “”Their’. I don’t know what to think about it, to be completely honest. I… I want them to stay together. I know it’s selfish of me, but for Thorin’s sake…”

“For Bilbo’s, too.” Belladonna murmured. “You’ve been a good mother, Vis.”

Vis startled, and glanced up. “Hardly.”

“You’ve done the best you could.” Belladonna said. From Vis’s words, she could see that Vis still ached to help Thorin in the ways she’d once been unable to. Now, however, that was an impossible decision. “He’s making a life for himself.”

“I hope it’s a good one.” She said quietly. “I hope they’ll be happy together for a long time.”

“They already have been.” Belladonna whispered on a sigh. After that conversation, she felt a little more knowledgeable. A mother’s instinct had always guided her though these kind of situations, and with Vis’s thoughts on the matter she felt a little more secure in her thoughts.

In the end she hadn’t been too surprised when, with their hands intertwined, a gently smiling Bilbo and Thorin approached them, and Bilbo had said, “We’re engaged.”

At twenty-five years of age, Bilbo Baggins gave Thorin Oakenshield a piece of his future.


	23. Stormless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At twenty-six years of age, Bilbo Baggins taught Thorin Oakenshield to be accepting.

At some point in Belladonna’s life, she’d come to the realisation that nobody could say anything about her. Rather, the words that were directed at her were a reflection of the person speaking, born from insecurities or frustration or anger or envy. Nevertheless, it had been her that had become shaky at the words, because at her core the person she’d thought herself to be had been dependant on the opinion of others to exist. In that way, she’d been forced to meet the need humans have to satisfy others, and eventually she’d become disturbed by her own behaviour. Only when she’d turned her eyes towards herself had she been able to create a person she could learn to love. That person – that Belladonna – was the one who had grown into who she was now, the one who could let others love her unconditionally. 

Now that she was getting older, she thought she had a better grasp on self-consciousness. She thought that it was a very misleading concept, mostly because so much of it was geared towards superficial things. She believed that when one was self-conscious, it was a reflection of namelessness, rather than a reflection in the mirror. In a sense, it was what happened when one showed symptoms of not knowing who they were, and unfortunately that was a staple of childhood. A solid knowledge of oneself had to start from nothing, after all. To her, self-consciousness indicated that one had yet to return home. 

Thorin didn’t understand that. Belladonna saw a hesitance in him that had stretched out from childhood, but she couldn’t figure out where it stemmed from. With planning for the future well underway, she thought that his quietness was limiting his involvement. In ways, it halted communication and left him with a lingering bitterness that he seemed unable to overcome. He was trying for Bilbo’s sake, Belladonna could clearly see that, but it was a struggle nevertheless. 

As with most things, Bilbo noticed Thorin’s disinclination. Perhaps he thought it might have come from a streak of indecisiveness, but with every decision being made Bilbo came to understand that it came from something more. He, just like his father, had eyes that could see things most others were blind to, and for that Belladonna was glad. It allowed Bilbo to expose Thorin’s wounds before they got too deep, and to soothe them. He really was good for Thorin, she thought. Deep down she knew that Thorin tended to recklessly and foolhardily believe every word that Bilbo spoke with a reverence that was completely unknown to her. In any other case, that level of devotion would have been frightening or uncontrollable, but Belladonna knew better. Those with a bond like the one her child shared with Thorin, if there were even any others out there, were more steadfast than they seemed. 

Now that they were engaged, Belladonna thought that a lot of her questions had been cleared up. The little things between them started making sense, like a fog had been cleared to reveal a calm blue sky. She started adding it up in her head, saving memories for a rainy day. The way they held hands, the closeness of their bent heads when one spoke, the way Bilbo still had a habit of running his fingers through Thorin’s hair once or twice before he left the room… It was all very affectionate, she knew, but now there was a subtle romantic light that seemed to turn her child pink-cheeked whenever Thorin smiled. 

Belladonna knew there were many things she’d be unable to do that other parents had the opportunity to – wedding dress shopping, for example. She didn't have a daughter, or a daughter-in-law, after all. Nevertheless, she never particularly lamented or frowned over only having one child, because Bilbo had still wished for her to come with him when he went searching for his own wedding attire. He'd all she'd ever wanted out of being a mother. Of course, Vis had tagged along for Thorin’s sake, because Bilbo and Thorin did just about everything together, even wedding suit shopping. Belladonna knew that neither of them would see exactly what the other was wearing until the big day so the surprise wouldn't be nulled, but even so it was strange for them to be apart, even for something as special and individualistic as this. That was the feeling she got, and she had no doubt Vis felt the same, so going with the both of them seemed completely natural.

Overall, the time they spent together with parts of their little families was very comforting to Belladonna. She often missed the closeness she used to have with Bilbo, so to be able to do such happy things with him was uplifting. Of course, it also gave her ample more time to watch how Bilbo and Thorin interacted, and the more she saw the more her mind wandered back to Thorin’s quiet insecurities. Vis, if she noticed, chose not to say anything. Belladonna didn’t either. It was more for Bilbo to sort out now, in either case.

He was good at consoling Thorin. Even in the middle of trying on suits, with a jacket half-pulled on, he still the time and concentration to lavish Thorin in reassuring affection. Belladonna was so distracted by all the pretty wedding dresses she was looking at with Vis that she almost missed seeing their little moment. They were standing in front of the changing rooms, completely alone, and Bilbo had Thorin’s hands in his own. He wore an imploring expression, and wouldn’t let Thorin look away from him. Thorin had the decency to look a little flushed, and his eyebrows were furrowed together. He looked a little uncomfortable, but held Bilbo’s hands tightly, and looked searchingly for comfort.

“Why are you embarrassed?” Bilbo asked him quietly, ducking his head to keep Thorin’s gaze even when Thorin tried to glance away. “You look very handsome.”

Thorin seemed doubtful, but he stopped trying to move away. “I look bad.” He murmured. “I feel bad.”

Bilbo hummed thoughtfully. “I think you look beautiful.” He said. Quietly, he pulled Thorin down so he could press their lips together, just once, chastely. It occurred to Belladonna that that was the first time she saw them kiss. “I know you don’t see it, and I know you feel like you’re out of place, but…” Bilbo glanced down for a moment, and his cheeks turned bright red. “I’m probably going to be the one walking down the aisle, right? So as long as you smile at me when I’m walking, then everything will be fine.”

Her child really had grown up. He still seemed so young and innocent at heart, but he was capable of understanding and comprehending people like Thorin on such deep levels that it was astounding to her. He invited feelings of acceptance and confidence without doing much other than speaking from his heart, and could still smile so warmly. He truly was a remarkable person, and not just because he was her son. He was remarkable because he could bring smiles to the faces of people like Thorin, and because he always saw the best in others, no matter what.

At twenty-six years of age, Bilbo Baggins taught Thorin Oakenshield to be accepting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might end up rewording the last sentence later, because it's bothering me ahhh ^^"


	24. Saturnalia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At twenty-seven years of age, Bilbo Baggins and Thorin Oakenshield kept a promise.

Belladonna realised that as she got older, promises became much more important. Opportunities in life to start over or to get a second chance slimmed and tapered off as one aged, and comfortability became very important. A promise of something good therefore had to be kept, as it became something that was greatly valued. At some point in her younger years she might have realised that, but back then she was cynical enough to understand that promises were easily made and even more easily broken. She hadn’t made many promises back then that she had intended to keep, and even less that she had actually remained truthful and honest to. There had, of course, been promises that she unwaveringly kept to, like all the promises she’d made to Bilbo the day he was born, and all the promises she’d made to Bungo the day they got married. 

Just like she had, the day Bilbo and Thorin got married her child made promises that she knew he would never, ever break. On the day they got married, Belladonna truly knew they would never be apart. 

Their wedding was a joyous occasion. Just like Bilbo expected, he had been the one to walk down the aisle. For some time, the two of them debated walking down together, but ultimately Bilbo had embarrassedly admitted that he wanted to walk down the aisle, and Thorin wouldn’t refuse any of Bilbo’s wishes.

In the end, for Thorin to see Bilbo walking towards him guided by Bungo really sparked his confidence. He’d seen Bilbo – unable to stop himself from turning around – and he’d gone teary-eyed and flushed. he looked like he'd never wanted to do anything more than grab Bilbo by the hand and hold him tight, and that made Belladonna's heart flutter. Thorin had never looked so overjoyed, or at least not since he was a child and the world hadn't darkened his view so much. Regardless, Belladonna had never seen him quite look that exact way. It was certainly an "in the moment" kind of expression, one that clung to the closest parts of her memory. To him, she was sure the world had become kind once again. For what it was worth, her child had started crying before he’d even stepped foot on the aisle and hadn’t seem to stop since. He was such an emotional boy. It was quite endearing to watch, in all honesty. He’d been so handsome that day, and his smile was just like the one he wore when he was a child and Belladonna had yet to get used to his radiance. 

They’d danced so wonderfully, that night. Thorin held Bilbo close and watched him like his entire world could be seen in Bilbo’s eyes. He was warm that day, warmer than Belladonna had seen him in many years. To think her child could make someone so happy… More than anything, she knew that the weight of the ring on Thorin’s finger was grounding him. She herself fiddled with her ring more than once that day, knowing full-well the effect it had on people like Thorin. To him, it was more than just a ring, and his marriage to Bilbo was more than just a contract. To him, it was a promise for something better – for something great. 

Throughout the year, Belladonna often thought back to their wedding day. They’d had a summer wedding, but the day hadn’t been too hot. Rather, it was a hazy sort of warmth that seemed to bring everything into a sharp state of clarity, just like Bilbo’s smile did. She knew that their happiness would always come forth when spring changed into summer, and that the warmth of the sun would always offer them comfort. Their dreams were captured that season, and would remain in summer like a time capsule waiting to be opened no matter the time or place. She was glad they decided to get married that day. It felt right. 

Often she thought the promises they’d made to one another that day were more than what they’d shared. The vows had left everyone quiet and teary, despite being whispered as though they were to be heard only by each other. Thorin had spoken of how Bilbo had saved him, had offered him warmth, and in return Bilbo said that Thorin’s companionship was what had kept him from feeling like he’d lost himself. 

“You are my home.” Bilbo had said as he’d cradled Thorin’s hands between his own. “And to you, I will always return.” 

But it was more than that. There was something deeply unexplainable about their relationship, something that Belladonna simply didn’t have the words to describe. It was more than acceptance, more than everlasting affection and nostalgic comfort and the sharing of dreams that were unlike any other. She’d once mentioned it to Bungo, and he’d only smiled and cradled her face because even he, the one who saw everything, had no words to describe the world their child had created for himself. She wanted to know everything they’d promised each other already, because surely it would be the greatest thing she’d ever hear.

But it wasn’t for her ears. She knew that their promises were for themselves, and in that knowledge she took some comfort. In a way, she could understand that now they had less of a burden on them when it came to keeping things a secret. Marriage afforded them something that remaining unbound in the eyes of the law didn’t, and although she was unsure of what that was entirely she could still comprehend it. After all, she was married too, and she’d experienced the same thing with Bungo. To her eyes, it looked like their connection had only travelled deeper, unhindered by the pressure that marriage sometimes caused. In some ways Belladonna thought that this connection – this connection, which was real and physical and tangible – was something that Thorin seemed to desperately hold onto. His character dictated that things that he could not feel or touch or see were often difficult to comprehend, but this level of devotion from Bilbo was something so much more than that. 

Only now did Belladonna see just how much her child relied on Thorin, much in the same way Thorin relied on him. It was a frightening feeling, but also one she knew could provide security if need be. She didn’t think she’d ever quite noticed it, until now. In more ways than one, Thorin had become Bilbo’s home.

At twenty-seven years of age, Bilbo Baggins and Thorin Oakenshield kept a promise.


	25. Sombre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At twenty-eight years of age, Bilbo Baggins helped Thorin Oakenshield overcome sorrow.

Sometimes Belladonna thought about her grandparents and wondered how her parents had felt when they passed away. Life wasn’t meant to be lived for centuries, after all, and it was the nature of humans to age and mature. In many ways it was a sad thing to embrace, but it was the truth nevertheless. She’d come to accept that it was a part of living, and as she got older it tended to cross her mind more and more often. Mostly, she thought of her own child’s future, and the things she would have missed had she not been around. She knew there were things Bilbo still needed her for, and no matter what she’d comply with them. She was his mother, after all, even if he was now an adult living to a pace he himself set. 

Thorin was different. That year, Thrain died.

Belladonna knew that Thrain had always been estranged from his family. He wasn’t the kind of person to form bonds like others did, and when Belladonna had first been getting to know Vis, she’d wondered how they’d ever managed to have three children. Nevertheless, she knew that the time Thrain spent away from his family was time he spent providing, and that he’d always been a hard worker. Sometimes she thought that his decision to do so was the wrong one, because he’d missed so much of his children’s lives that it was saddening. She thought that he might have found it easier to let them go, instead of keeping them close. In some ways she could sympathise with that, but she didn’t think it was the right choice to make.

There was no way to rectify it now.

The funeral was a sombre occasion. It rained that day, and the sky was filled with an ocean of black umbrellas. It was hard to hear the words spoken above the sound of the rain, and soon most people that had attended were shivering and soaked. Still, none made a move to leave, and all remained by the grave until it was over. Belladonna held onto Bungo’s arm, and watched as Vis collapsed and pressed her hands to her face. Much like her mother, Dis looked ready to topple over, and Frerin – Frerin, who had grown into such an enthusiastic adult – only pressed his lips together into a harsh line and held onto her tight. For the first time in a very long time, all Belladonna could see of them were their backs.

Thorin showed his grief in a different way. His eyes spoke volumes, even though his expression was void of anything significant. His eyes told anyone who looked closely enough that he completely blamed himself, and that he simmered with feelings of anger or guilt or resentment that lingered in the worst way possible. She didn’t know the extent of Thorin’s relationship with his father, but she knew that Thorin felt abandoned by him, at least a little. A lot more now. Thorin greatly feared being lonely, and she knew that he feared the darkened places he had once been – feared returning to them. Thrain’s actions had possibly once helped him fall there, and now his death left so many things unresolved that it was possible Thorin might crumble again. He was fragile in the strongest way possible. 

Like an unwavering pillar, Bilbo remained by his side. Belladonna knew that her child had a deeper grasp on Thorin’s nature than she did, and for that she was glad. Bilbo held onto Thorin’s hand to stop him from drifting away somewhere he couldn’t be reached, and as soon as Thorin showed signs of needing comfort Bilbo was ready. Even in the rain he remained steady, as if the suffocating air and the grieving cries surrounding them had no affect on him. 

“Don’t be afraid.” Bilbo whispered to Thorin as they stood side by side. Without lifting his head, he tightened his grip on Thorin’s hand, and pulled him a little closer. “Feel however you wish, Thorin. Don’t be afraid.”

She didn’t really understand what Bilbo meant, but she knew that she wasn’t meant to. Bilbo’s words were for Thorin alone, and once they were said they were left to be washed away with the rain. In many ways Belladonna thought that what Bilbo said that day helped Thorin allow himself to mourn in a way he had never been able to. Bilbo’s words gave Thorin the permission to feel anger and guilt and resentment, and most importantly Bilbo’s words allowed Thorin to let go of those feelings. They allowed Thorin to understand that there was better places for him to be, and that that which could not be changed was best not to dwell on. For what it was worth, Thorin seemed to take comfort in Bilbo’s words. Even if his shoulders shook, and his bottom lip trembled, and even if his face scrunched up because the tears simply wouldn’t stop burning his eyes – that was okay.

Thorin openly cried, that day. He wasn’t the type of person to waver like Vis, but he stood tall and trembled and bowed his head as tears dripped off his chin. 

As most people began to file away, Thorin had turned to Bilbo, and reached to cup Bilbo’s face in his hands. He took a moment to smooth back Bilbo’s hair from his forehead, and to simply watch his face. Bilbo hadn’t looked away from him, either, not until he closed his eyes and let Thorin press their foreheads together. Bilbo had freely given him the comfort he sought, and only when the rain became too heavy did he very gently kiss the corner of Thorin’s lips and ask, “Shall we go?” He held the umbrella up the entire way, and didn’t complain as his other hand was clutched tightly in both of Thorin’s. Rather, he simply guided Thorin inside, and remained a steady, silent figure. 

Yes, the rain would wash away all the lingering pain of that day, but only because Bilbo would be there tomorrow to smile like the sun.

At twenty-eight years of age, Bilbo Baggins helped Thorin Oakenshield overcome sorrow.


	26. Specter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At twenty-nine years of age, Bilbo Baggins and Thorin Oakenshield proved that not all ghosts were bad.

With age, Belladonna found that nostalgia became a presence that was more often found in things that previously seemed insignificant. The ghosts of things formerly felt and experienced seemed to touch her heart and mind at the strangest of moments, even when she happened to only be doing the most simplest of tasks. As if it were a silent spectator, it waited on the fringe of her mind to carelessly remind her of the past. It seemed that with the absence of her child in her home, even after all these years, his memories still remained for her to view. 

It was always the small things that resonated with her the greatest. Once, while going through piles of things that could be discarded, she came across a colourful, plastic pinwheel Bilbo had once begged for at a fair. Its joint was still as stiff as ever, but she could manage turn the pinwheel with the tip of her finger after applying a small amount of pressure. Another time, while she was hanging sheets on the washing line, a breeze had picked up and swept the fabric around her like a gentle embrace, and she had remembered something else. Many years ago, when Bilbo had only just been starting to walk, she remembered how Bungo would wrap him in sheets they’d yank off the bed and carry him around like he was a wrapped lolly waiting to be eaten. Bilbo had loved that – he’d screech and giggle and huff until his cheeks were bright red with joy. On a different day, she had been making tea on a stormy afternoon when she’d glanced up and seen a reflection of their living room in the window, and with the rain battering the window she was reminded of the tears Thorin shed when he and Bilbo had both been seventeen. 

She wondered if Bilbo was old enough to have started getting those little ghostly reminders, too. When she tried to remember being his age - it had been so long ago, now – she found that she remembered having wished she’d done a lot of things differently. She didn’t think she’d understood that life was a learning process at that point in time, but Bilbo seemed to. He’d always been more sensitive to thoughts like that, and had always gad a greater understanding of what went on around him than others did. Of course, there happened to be times when he too was at a loss, but he was always able to overcome his insecurities and doubts with a strength Belladonna had never seen anyone else muster, not even herself, or Bungo. It was like Bilbo had run through the heat of the sun and come out with nothing more than a warm smile, unlike the burns so many others tended to receive. 

That year, Bilbo’s career took a turn for the better. His work was being published more frequently, and a novel of his own was submitted for consideration with a very popular publishing company. Even as he helped Thorin mourn, he was working towards a better future for the both of them. At some point, the two of them went on a holiday, where she was sure Thorin would be able to recuperate and lift himself out of his low with a tender indifference. Bilbo always seemed to know exactly how to cheer Thorin up, and by the time they returned, slightly tanned and freckled from the sun, she was sure the both of them were feeling completely rested up. 

Sometimes she wondered what Bilbo thought of her. He had a look in his eyes that said he was aware of her loneliness when it came to him, one that said he clearly knew of the little memories she more often thought back to, completely unbidden. He was always sending her photos, and even going to the trouble of printing them out so she could hold something real and solid in her hands. She appreciated the gesture, nevertheless, and was always happy to go through all of the albums she’d collected throughout the years. Often Bungo would join her, and together they’d sit on the porch and let their feet dangle over the garden beds as they turned through the pages laden with photographs.

For what it was worth, Belladonna believed that the photos Bilbo took were not just for her sake, but for Thorin’s, too. She knew that Bilbo must give them to Thorin to look upon when he was feeling particularly down, and that they served as proof of better times. She often caught herself thinking back on times she’d truly been happy and wished she’d taken photographs so that the memory would stop becoming blurred around the edges. It was a problem that Bilbo had quite possibly foreseen, and improved, without anyone ever noticing. She wondered how many problems had been like that – how many she had failed to notice, and how many Bilbo had overcome with no support.

Maybe that wasn’t quite what happened. Thorin had always been there, after all, even if he was sad or silent. He likely knew Bilbo the best out of all of them, and had become finely tuned to the slight changes Bilbo allowed himself when he felt anything that wasn’t particularly happy. Despite everything he had gone through, and still have yet to endure, Thorin was an intelligent person. His own problems had expectedly made him quite sensitive to similar feelings within others, particularly those he was close to. She had no doubt in her mind that he was just as attached to Bilbo as Bilbo was to him, if not more. She knew that Bilbo could be a difficult person for someone like Thorin to understand, but he seemed to do it just fine. Maybe it was his unwavering belief in everything Bilbo said that made him like that. Perhaps it was something deeply intimate. She was sure she would never fully comprehend whatever it was. 

Despite of the melancholy those little memories sometimes brought, she was thankful she got to remember the times she enjoyed. Bilbo had grown up so much now – he was married, he had a good career, and he could even take holidays without any help organising or planning from Belladonna. In a way, she knew that he would always be able to take care of himself like that now, so long as he had Thorin with him. Thorin kept him on track, and kept him focused. Without Thorin, Bilbo surely would have been stuck on too many paths to correctly follow, and that more than anything would have been a great misfortune for the world. In the two of them, Belladonna could see all the great things that had already happened.

At twenty-nine years of age, Bilbo Baggins and Thorin Oakenshield proved that not all ghosts were bad.


	27. Staunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At thirty years of age, Bilbo Baggins showed Thorin Oakenshield the reliability of loyalty.

“I don’t think people ever really grow up.” 

To hear those words come from her child’s mouth startled Belladonna. In all honesty, the words sounded like something her own mind would conjure up during the middle of a restless night. It was an eerily familiar sentence. It made her realise that he really was no longer a child, that he'd truly grown up, and for the first time in a long time she realised just how much of herself could be seen in Bilbo. “Why are you so convinced?” She’d asked him as she’d been struck by an undeniable and insatiable pang of curiosity, as though she needed to know his answer, rather than just want it. That sort of emotion sometimes scared her, because it could be so ferocious. She would have liked to consider it as her desire to be closer to her child again, is all. He was becoming a complete person, one who was aware of the world, and better for it. He was still growing up so fast.

Bilbo made a nondescript sound in reply, and tilted his head back thoughtfully. “It’s more like I don’t know when a person is finished growing up.” Bilbo told her. His expression was effortlessly calm. “People do things that sound grown up, like getting married and having kids and buying a house, but even then they don’t know how to do it perfectly, so how can they say they’ve grown up? Truthfully, I feel like its children that are the real grownups. They’re quite loyal to themselves, are they not?”

It had certainly given Belladonna something to think about. In a way, she believed what he’d said. Raising him had shown her that children could be the most brutal of people with their inhibited way of living, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Quite the opposite, actually. Humans, by nature, carried their accumulated experiences in their bodies, their faces, their minds, but children were different. They were young, and unhindered by things like social politics. They didn’t have to worry about making first impressions and assuring feelings weren’t hurt and being offensive. No, they were completely unbridled, wild at the core in a way adults weren’t very often and sometimes could never be once more. A child’s attitude and their view on the world around them were absolutely impossible to replicate. 

Belladonna knew that the way children carried youth was because of a number of reasons, but one of the main things she always thought back to was their ability to trust in others. One could tell a child that the sky would turn red if they stared hard enough, and it would be believed. They would stare at the endless expanse above them for hours, just to make sure, and would soon forget that they have been deceived. It was a brand of forgiveness unlike anything else. Children, most of all, trusted others with an unwavering belief that always disappeared as soon as someone realised that lying didn’t have as many consequences as once previously thought. In was an imbalance, one that had trust on one scale and lies on the other, and yet somehow both were regarded with neutrality. That blind trust changed into suspicion and greed and fear as one aged, and as sure as the run rose every morning so would a child age into an adult.

She thought that something adults struggled with accepting after maturing was loyalty. Rather, it was difficult to trust someone to be loyal to such an extent that it was believable. It was a strange concept, but it struck her more and more often as she realised just how much she loved Bungo. They’d been together, not always romantically, for such a long time that she couldn’t fathom ever being with anyone else. However, she knew of many people who’d been married two or three times, and others yet that regularly or had regularly changed partners. Although she didn’t have much of an opinion on the way others carried out their relationships, it certainly did point her mind back towards her own. Bungo was still as gentle and kind-hearted as he was when they first met, if not more. She knew that she had an awful tendency to get distracted, and to get side-tracked and blindsided by things that shined very brightly very briefly, and yet when the light cleared and she had a clear view he was always waiting for her to return. He was loyal, because he loved her. She knew her heart would always belong to him, too. 

With Bilbo’s popularity increasing among the literary world, Belladonna started noticing how Thorin seemed to withdraw. Once, when she visited them, she asked him about it.

“I... I don’t want to hold him back.” Thorin said quietly, forlornly, fondly. “But he’s entering such a big world, I just…”

She understood, without him needing to explain further. She could almost hear the words “I’m scared” and “I want him to live” and “I don’t want to be lonely” falling from his lips. She sometimes felt like Bilbo was drifting away from her again, too. Thorin didn’t feel abandoned, per say, but rather he felt left behind. Of course, she knew Bilbo well enough to know that that would never be the case, but Thorin could sometimes be a very insecure person. His mind dictated that he should question every action and reaction from himself and others in depth. Overthinking was a burden he had to carry, and at times it simply couldn’t be willed away or ignored. It wasn’t so much of an issue of trust with Bilbo, because even Thorin knew Bilbo’s affections towards him would never waver, but rather he didn’t trust himself not to get left behind. He had a part to play in Bilbo’s success, after all, and he needed to keep up with Bilbo so that he could make sure Bilbo didn’t get swept away. 

But Bilbo was a remarkably perceptive person. Even though he was susceptible to being swept away with all the commotion of the adult world, he was always sure to return to Thorin, no matter what. He was loyal in a very instinctual way, Belladonna thought. He could keep Thorin’s secrets, and was endlessly virtuous. There were many times throughout the year she saw Bilbo soothe away Thorin’s insecurities regarding the matter, even when Bilbo himself was unaware of what exactly he was doing. He always returned to Thorin’s side no matter what, as if his body guided him there without a single thought towards it, tugged along by an unbreakable tether, and the fact that he always seemed so happy when Thorin paid him any attention – which he habitually did, quite tenderly – it certainly was a boost to Thorin’s confidence. Bilbo, in a sense, was as loyal as an adult could be, and only towards Thorin, exclusively. His feelings and expressions were always open and honest in regards to Thorin, and he never made an effort to hide anything other than flustered embarrassment from Thorin. He did it without thinking, on instinct, and showed Thorin parts of himself not even Belladonna had seen. To Thorin, he must have been a scary person.

She thought it was those moments when Bilbo hadn’t intentionally calmed Thorin’s worries that were the most important. Each time he did it automatically, unconsciously, impulsively. He did it straight from the heart, a gesture from the truest part of himself carried out through his gentle hands and warm smile, and he was always gentle in the fondest way possible. It was the tender, unpredictable nature of his affection that assured Thorin in his moments of weakness that Bilbo would never leave his side.

At thirty years of age, Bilbo Baggins showed Thorin Oakenshield the reliability of loyalty.


	28. Saccharine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At thirty-one years of age, Bilbo Baggins helped Thorin Oakenshield forgive the past.

Belladonna started to forgive herself for things as she got older. She forgave herself for leaving dirty dishes in the kitchen sink overnight, she forgave herself for having that extra spoonful of honey in her sugary tea, and she forgave herself for forgetting to water the garden every now and then. Things that once would have deeply bothered her, or once would have made her feel guilty or frustrated with herself, were easier to forgive with each year that passed. Maybe it was because as she aged she felt stronger on the inside, like less things could break her. Forgiveness was an attribute that belonged commonly with those who were strong at heart, after all. She didn’t know if her ability to forgive made her a strong person, because she was unable to look at herself objectively like that, but the knowledge of that strength being possible soothed her heart.

Towards others, she’d always found it easier to forgive their mistakes rather than their victories. If a person was wrong, forgiving them was easier than if they were right. She thought that that was a form of self-preservation, one that was born from a defensive need to always be correct to avoid unnecessary social strife. Belladonna herself had often felt that way, though less and less as she got older. She realised that a lot of the things that made her happy were dictated by the word “unless” – unless she spoke the truth, unless she believed in herself, unless she moved forward, unless she realised the problem, unless she was loved, unless she was forgiving. It was endless, but it was inevitable. In the end, she felt better about herself every time she conquered one more “unless”.

To Bilbo, forgiveness was an easy concept. He never truly harboured ill will towards people, mostly due to his uncanny ability to understand and empathise with others and their most honest feelings. He had always been able to see into a person's mind, and sift through their words until he found the ones that conveyed nothing but honesty. He never invalidated anyone for what they felt, not matter how cruel they could be. He could understand the way some people had the tendency to bite, after all, and he didn't dislike them for it. To him, the world was still a place where forgiveness could be easily given and easily received. He did just that, didn't he? It seemed like the darkness and the cruelty of the world would never touch his heart, no matter how far it reached through his blinding light. 

Regardless, Bilbo’s character was becoming more and more difficult to comprehend. Belladonna thought that much of Bilbo was reflective of Thorin, and in many ways most of Bilbo’s enigmatic affect was mirrored by Thorin’s. Their relationship was a very private thing, and aside from chaste kisses and casual romantic touches she’d never seen them be anything which couldn’t be thought of as platonic. She had no doubt in her mind that they were more intimately intertwined than what they showed, but it was a strange thing, nevertheless. It was like Bilbo was still caught in the sky, like his fingers were scraping through clouds to bare sunlight that bathed him in a dazzling light unlike any other in the entire world. When one looked at him, he gave off a feeling that was almost indescribable – like he’d never recall your name, should one accidentally let him base by. His eyes attracted a sort of carefreeness that was wild and comforting, even to strangers. 

Thorin’s eyes were different. They begged for forgiveness, and for understanding. They were covered in a layer of cold, a layer of ennui that would never be seen in any other. His eyes silently said “I’m scared” and “I’m alone” and “please don’t give me up”. Perhaps it was more like they were saying “please don’t give up on me” and “I’m trying”, too. In his eyes, Belladonna often saw the reflection of the sky, so cold and distant and unreachable above him. For a long time she thought that that was what everyone saw, but that wasn’t the case. She knew Bilbo must see something completely different. She thought he might have seen the stars in Thorin’s eyes, and amongst them a reflection of himself. Bilbo knew Thorin better than anyone else, even Thorin himself, and as such his affection could take Thorin places where he may have never dreamed that he’d be able to go alone. 

Belladonna thought that Thorin knew of what Bilbo had done for him over the years they’d known one another more than anyone. When someone was in pain, no matter the source, the people around them often got hurt by no fault of their own, and that was something Thorin was deeply aware of. He’d hurt Bilbo in the past without truly meaning to, after all, and he carried that burden with him. In order to stop himself from hurting Bilbo, however unintentionally, he had to forgive himself. That was the only way for the hurt to completely dissipate. Thorin’s problems were deeply rooted in his past, and as such they were issues that were nearly impossible to address. There was no way to change things that had already happened, and that knowledge was a difficult setback to overcome. Once a wound was inflicted, it could never be willed away completely. Some part of it would always remain, just under the surface, waiting to be aggravated. Scars were proof of that fact, even if the scars themselves were no longer visible, or even unable to see in the first place. Belladonna knew that Thorin had a tough time forgiving himself, could see it in his hesitance and the way he noticeably held himself back from being truly expressive. It was as though he still feared reprimand for doing things that warranted no scolding, and she didn’t know how to break him out of that habit. Vis had brought it up to her once, had told her how Thorin still seemed unsure of himself in a way she was only able to vaguely understand. It saddened Belladonna.

However it wasn’t all bad. Bilbo was often able to encourage Thorin along, and now Thorin seemed less and less uncertain of himself and of his actions, especially as he grew older. He wasn’t afraid of hurting the feelings of others, and was less apprehensive about the prospect of himself being hurt. It seemed as though his feet had finally become steady, and that he’d finally developed a skin to protect him from deep aches. It was like he’d finally gathered the energy to lift a shield to protect him from the hurt that the world so cruelly inflicted, and now he stood taller, and straighter. At times, she saw him smile like he was completely unaware of how bright he was becoming. It was Bilbo that had allowed him to become like that. Bilbo’s sweet and unwavering belief in him gave him the room to grown and bloom, and even if he was late he was still a flower that everyone would come to admire.

To Belladonna, forgiveness had become a constant attitude, rather than an occasional act, and she didn’t believe that it was something that could be turned on and off. It was a cause and effect, something that could penetrate the impenetrable stone walls that surrounded hearts and minds alike. To forgive wasn’t to forget, but rather to move on, to leave the past in the past and learn to improve the future. It was the feeling of holding someone’s hand when it was warm, and the way the face of someone loved looked peaceful while they slept. It was reassurance, at its very essence. Forgiving was forgivable. 

At thirty-one years of age, Bilbo Baggins helped Thorin Oakenshield forgive the past.


	29. Serendipitous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At thirty-two years of age, Bilbo Baggins helped Thorin Oakenshield forgive the world.

Bilbo had always been a very generous person, but only recently had Belladonna come to realise that that personality trait in particular was linked to him. Her child had always been inclined to help others for no particular reason other than to help them, and because of that she’d never really connected his actions to the word “generosity” as though it were an integral part of his character, until that year. Regardless, it was certainly something that struck her quite prominently, especially the more she thought of it. Bilbo was effortless when it came to helping others, mostly because he was so good at reading people. Uncanny though it may be, his eyes were able to see the truth in all people, no matter how well it may have been hidden. It was a gift only he seemed to have.

She thought that much of his generosity came in the form of affection. He was unwaveringly supportive of people, and had a way of talking that completely avoided invalidating a person based on what they felt. She’d never seen anyone who was capable of being so careful in a conversation, and she thought it may have had something to do with the way Bilbo bended words to suit his desires. He had a real talent with words – could change them, force them to submit to his will. He had a way of wording things that reminded her, somehow, of the look he had when he watched the sky at night. 

Sometimes she thought that he may have over expended himself in his generosity, like he’d given away too much of himself. No matter how bright his smile may shine, he was only a small person living in a very large and very unpredictable world. She thought that generosity may have been an act of giving more than one could, and if that was so then her child was indeed quite generous. Pride, however, was the opposite. To have pride was to take less than one needed, and Bilbo sometimes had a bit of a greedy streak. Belladonna couldn’t fault him for it, because the things he hungered for were entirely forgivable. Bilbo was ravenous when it came to his writing, and he was always striving for more. He was insatiable when it came to Thorin, too. That was also something Belladonna had only recently figured out – Bilbo’s need for Thorin’s affection was limitless, and generally Thorin was unable to quell his desires, as it just wasn’t in his personality. It was by no fault of Thorin of course, and Bilbo never seemed bothered by Thorin’s albeit slowly disappearing hesitance. Rather, it was like Bilbo silently hungered, eyes sharp and wide for any sign of give in Thorin’s stony exterior. He waited for the day when Thorin could return his affections full force. It reminded Belladonna of a crow, hauntingly awaiting the moment its next meal was left unattended, so that it could swiftly swoop in and steal its fill. 

In a way, Bilbo was the most generous with Thorin. He always had been. His affection, his loyalty, his honesty – they were all, in essence, forms of generosity that translated into compassion from which many of Thorin’s wounds were soothed. In a sense, Bilbo’s conscience towards Thorin had grown so tender that it subconsciously acted to protect him. He was always protecting Thorin, always caring for him in the most heartfelt way possible. To return that, Thorin gave Bilbo all that he could afford, and was never stingy when it came to offering Bilbo comfort should he ever need it. Belladonna knew that giving physical comfort wasn’t something that came easily to Thorin, not like it did with Bilbo. It was out of his comfort zone. Regardless, Thorin always tried his hardest, and that was something both Belladonna and Bilbo could admire him for. Hesitant though he may have sometimes been, Thorin was resilient and determined. At times, if he put his mind to something, there was no doubt he would carry it through. 

As the years progressed, small changes started appearing in Thorin. The tentativeness in his personality when it came to himself and his actions slowly started disappearing, and with Bilbo’s constant care and uplifting attitude he seemed to be happier. He was more confident in himself, and for the first time in a long time he was able to properly support Bilbo in return. With Bilbo’s career taking off, Belladonna worried that he would become overwhelmed with it all, because he would be entering a world completely different to the one’s he’d been living in for so long. For a moment, she saw those burdening feelings in her child’s attitude, like an ocean that had gone still when it had previously been rhythmic and dynamic, but it was Thorin that ended up effortlessly soothing him. Although he wasn’t good with words, his sudden bursts of affection spoke volumes for him. If anything, Bilbo seemed entirely thankful for them. He’d never looked more satisfied then he did when Thorin voluntarily pulled him closer, tucked him under his chin so Bilbo could settle into his arms the way one would when they first hit their bed after a long and tiring day. 

“You’ll be okay.” Thorin had told Bilbo quietly. His cheeks were surprisingly red, though it was hard to tell with his complexion, and although he seemed unable to look at Bilbo’s face his eyes were completely and utterly fond. 

“It’s a little scary.” Bilbo admitted. His cheek was pressed against Thorin’s collarbone, and his eyes were pointed up so that he could stare out from under his lashes. Despite it being an awkward angle, he still managed to smile in a mollified way, like he wasn’t uncomfortable with the stiff way Thorin had captured him. He had looked like he wanted to savour the moment, and it was admittedly quite amusing. “There’s so many people that are better that me. More popular, too, like they can write anything and it would instinctively be adored.”

Thorin looked a little off put at that, as though he couldn’t that was what believe Bilbo truly thought. “I think you’ll be fine.” He said matter-of-factly. “Don’t doubt yourself.”

Bilbo’s eyes had positively glittered when Thorin spoke. He’d been awe-struck and silent for a small moment, but then he’d grinned widely and nuzzled the underside of Thorin’s chin like an old, gratified cat. It was a very loving action, one Belladonna had only seen through a passing doorway like a glimpse into another world, but it was still one she would come to treasure for a very long time. It seemed that through Bilbo, Thorin was able to see the world in a better light than ever before. To know that Bilbo depended on him for comfort like he did must have made Thorin feel very needed. For someone like him, that meant more than anything. It cleared the path to a brighter future, one that shone so vivaciously that it eclipsed any lingering sense of darkness from the past. 

At thirty-two years of age, Bilbo Baggins helped Thorin Oakenshield forgive the world.


	30. Surfeit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At thirty-three years of age, Bilbo Baggins helped Thorin Oakenshield forgive himself.

Ageing was a transition that many people feared. Belladonna herself sometimes found herself wishing for a few more hours, a few more days, a few more years. She thought about living in a world without Bungo, or without Bilbo, and she became incredibly sad. She knew that growing old was something that couldn’t be changed, but that piece of knowledge didn’t stop her from sometimes wishing she could turn back time to a place when she was younger, or happier, or just different to the person she had become. Regardless, she believed that confronting the face that she had grown into was something that required a lot of courage, and sticking to it even more so. It was her husband’s unconditional love and the way Bilbo continue to smile so warmly that always gave her the energy to live her life to the fullest. It had taken her many years to become the person she was, and she thought that it was best to love that person rather than lament over the things that could have changed who she was now.

It seemed that the passage of time had really helped Thorin. He smiled more often, though it was still a strange expression to see on his face, because it was stiff and unused. He seemed to be more open, and didn’t give off such a reluctant air anymore. She thought he might have become a little more enamoured with the things the world could offer him, too. She knew that Bilbo had recognised that quality in Thorin, and he’d since been taking Thorin a lot of places just to show him the beauty Bilbo commonly saw. At one point, she heard of how Bilbo had made Thorin wake up extra early so he could see the sunrise from their bedroom window, and she had a feeling that although Thorin would have acted grumpy, he must have really enjoyed himself. They often took trips to the beach on the weekends, even if it was a little cloudy or cold, and Bilbo often made Thorin accompany him on walks after dinner in the evening. It was reassuring to see them so active, like they were taking advantage of the world. It made Belladonna smile, because they finally seemed to be heading to a place without worries and discomfort. 

Once, she caught them stargazing. Bilbo hadn’t become an astronomer as he had dreamed of doing when he was a child, but he still watched the stars with enough fascination to make up for it. Her child stared up with a gentle expression and shining eyes. Just like when he was a child, he’d sat on the edge of their porch after he and Thorin had come over for dinner and he’d tilted his head back to observe the sky spread out before him. Over the years, he’d become used to the constellations that they were privy too, and for a while all he did was quietly point them out to Thorin. Belladonna had no doubt he’d done it before, countless times even, but Thorin only silently listened as though Bilbo were telling him the most secret of secrets.

It was sweet to watch. Most things Bilbo did were sweet. He still printed out photographs for Belladonna, and she had seen on multiple occasions that his house keys were on a keychain accompanied by a small, faded fish charm. He really was living his life to the fullest, in every way possible. It was reassuring to see him succeed, and she had no doubt that he would continue to grow both as a person and as someone precious to many people. 

He’d become quite a beautiful person, now that he was older. He’d grown to just an inch taller than Belladonna – which he was ridiculously proud over – and his features had filled out. He still had small hands, and a round nose, but his eyes seemed bigger, his lashes thicker. He exuded an air of gentleness that no one else had ever been able to replicate. Even in such a cruel world, he had become honest and trustworthy and believable. Perhaps it was more like he was easy to believe in – that the things he said could not be anything other than his own brand of truth. It was a difficult thing to comprehend, and even more difficult to have faith in, but Bilbo had a way of enforcing it that was so efficient it was a little scary. It seemed impossible that someone could have grown up to become so pure, and yet he had. He’d retained parts of his childhood that most other people lost, like he was a tree that always bloomed and never quite turned orange, even when autumn and winter both passed. To Belladonna, even if it snowed and become cold and bleak she was certain her child would prevail, and that his smile would warm anyone who had the courage to glance in his direction. 

Thorin seemed well aware of Bilbo’s character. Imaginably, he knew more on the subject than Belladonna did, and if that was truly so it wouldn’t particularly surprise her. He’d had to change a lot more than Bilbo had in their lives, but he’d done it. The person he was becoming now was someone he seemed more comfortable with being. More than anything, Belladonna could see his desire to change. Anyone who glanced at him would become suddenly struck with it, as though there were a light behind Thorin casting him in a darkness that was impossible to look away from. By some unconceivable means the darkness made his eyes eerily bright, and in them it was easy to recognise his will. Belladonna somehow imagined that it was Bilbo standing behind him all these years, so that he became the light that drove Thorin forwards. It was as though Bilbo had reached out a hand to press between Thorin’s shoulder blades, saying “I believe in you, so go.” She dreamed of it sometimes, and in her dreams she saw Bilbo’s little hand pushing forwards someone who could develop a will that burned brightly enough to engulf the entire world.

In a word, Thorin had become ravenous. 

And the more he hungered, the most Bilbo smiled. Their lives were intimately intertwined, and as heat rose in one it was reflected by the other in a dazzling display of voracity and rapaciousness that was effortlessly admirable. Instead of one crow waiting impatiently for its meal, there were two, and their wings were bared high above them as if to say “I’m here, so make way.” 

It consoled Belladonna. As she aged – as her back became sore, as her face became friendly with wrinkles born of laughter and time, as each season shifted and she became a little more tired – they grew. They stood tall and strong, joined at the hands, against a world that had tried so hard to make them crumble.

And they never once fell. Their wings never trembled, never wavered. They remembered, they breathed, and they lived. It was a never ending cycle, a form of repetition that became nostalgic and melancholic and empowering all at once. With each day that passed, the burning energy that had once been missing from Thorin’s system began to seep into his veins where it travelled to every part of his body until one day he grabbed Bilbo by the hand and led him to a better place. 

In the end, they never would fall. 

It was no longer in their nature.

At thirty-three years of age, Bilbo Baggins helped Thorin Oakenshield forgive himself.


	31. Swan Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At thirty-four years of age, Bilbo Baggins and Thorin Oakenshield showed Belladonna a sight so great it became brighter than the sun.

When Belladonna looked in the mirror and saw a face that had been changed by time, she thought of what would come after. After everything that had happened, after all the experiences and memories and ghosts her life had accumulated, what then? Humans, by nature, consoled themselves with the notions of lands after life – Heaven, Paradise, or reincarnation. Instinctively, humans closed their eyes to sleep, unaware that they would no longer wake. Perhaps that was the true cruelty of the world – that it would not last forever, that happiness faded into a blurry memory, that the sun would set and clouds would hide its warmth and that eventually, the moon would too leave. 

However foolish humans could be, she was glad she had been given a life to live. Rather, the things that had become limitlessly important to her in life – her husband, and her child, and even the Oakenshield family – were things she was extremely grateful to have come to known. She found that the personal connections she’d made to people were the things that lured her eyes into opening every morning, so that she could see something or someone she had grown to love dearly. 

Throughout the year, many things happened. Dis married in January to a nice man Belladonna had only met a handful of times at their regular family dinners. It had taken a while for Frerin and Thorin to warm up to him, but he was gentle-hearted, and very family orientated. Thorin still experienced bouts of overprotectiveness, even more so when Dis fell pregnant and had a child of her own, but it was no longer a frantic sense of overbearingness that weighed down heavily on his shoulders. Rather, it was subtle sulking and pointed glares that eventually warmed into casual conversations and an easy going relationship. Frerin was doing just as well for himself, though he’d moved a little farther away than Vis would have liked. Vis herself struggled for some time with an empty nest, but somehow Belladonna thought she had always been resilient, even if she hadn’t thought it at times in the past. 

When Belladonna thought back on the last thirty or so years, she couldn’t help but remember the sadder times first and foremost. The cruelty inflicted on her family and closest friends was indescribable, because sometimes the pain they had felt still echoed numbly through a place in her that was still empty. To be born into a world where one didn’t know their origin or even who they are, and to be forced to figure it out all alone and lonely was the one thing Belladonna fiercely wished could be changed. And if not changed, then she wished the cruelty of it wouldn’t become so harsh, and that it wouldn’t linger for decades like it often did. Maybe it wasn’t the world that was cruel. Maybe it was humans themselves – their hearts, the very things humans came to rely on for life and pleasure. Hearts, in their weakness and fragility, were easily overwhelmed and overcome by things that led to pain and happiness and confusion and frustration. 

For what it was worth, that pain seemed mostly behind Bilbo and Thorin. She knew it would never truly leave, just like how a scar always lingered just beneath the skin, but she thought it might eventually become something that was easy to ignore. Maybe those old aches would fade into a blurry memory, too. A lot of her own had. In a way, it was numbing how humans were able to fit things like pain and the impossible into a version of their own reality, how they could fold it in until it was almost unrecognisable. Humans, they saw what they wanted to see, and everything else was taken apart piece by piece and diminished into something that was chewable and comprehensible, no matter how degraded it became. 

Thorin, just like his mother, had become resilient. It seemed that he could stand on his own two feet, and that he didn’t need Bilbo to reach for him as often as he once had done. Every once in a while he himself spread out his fingers and made space for Bilbo, so that they could continue on together. Belladonna found that they’d grown to become people she sometimes didn’t recognise. Often she found them difficult to look at, because they shined so brightly they completely eclipsed the sun. She’d always, always known Bilbo would go on to do something great in this cruel world, but she’d never stopped to think that Thorin would, too. But he was.

In many ways, Thorin had become like Bilbo, too. He spent so long trying to become a good person that he hadn’t realised just who he’d become. He wasn’t the type of person to notice changes in himself, not until they became prominent, but Belladonna had no doubt he’d begin to look at himself in the mirror without feeling the urge to turn away soon enough. To others, however, to those who saw him not as a reflection but as he was, he had become drastically different. It wasn’t a bad thing, but rather it was because he had finally grown into someone he seemed to have been destined to become. Somehow, that person had taken on traits of Bilbo, ones that Belladonna could easily recognise. In Thorin, she saw her own child, saw his tenaciousness and his gentleness and his unstoppable greed for something better. Bilbo had long since become a person to admire, and now it seemed that Thorin finally had, too. Although Thorin couldn’t bend words to form his world like Bilbo could, he seemed to be able to bend the atmosphere surrounding him instead, like his presence could change the temperance of the air to become something he could control. In a way, he created a stage from which Bilbo could succeed. 

One day, Belladonna was struck by the way the leaves on the trees in her backyard changed colour. From her seat on the porch, she found herself enraptured by the particularly stunning shades of orange and brown that greeted her. She rationally knew it was no different to any other year that had ticked by, but the way the world looked to her in that moment was entirely mesmerizing. It wasn’t the sunniest day, but every now and then a shaft of light would break through the clouds and once again her attention would be drawn towards the orange trees. 

Maybe her attention was drifting towards the trees because Thorin and Bilbo were outside, too. They were standing by the trees, but no so far away that Belladonna was unable to see their eyes. For a moment, Bilbo drifted back inside to return his empty tea cup to the sink, and Belladonna’s attention was turned back to Bungo, who sat beside her with a fond look on his face. He’d always been perceptive, and was likely seeing more than Belladonna, but he simply smiled, and for perhaps the first time she thought that maybe Bilbo’s warm grin might have come from his father.

As Bilbo wandered back out, a sudden breeze appeared. Belladonna, sensing something, turned her eyes to watch as Bilbo brushed back a strand of his hair before glancing up. His eyes were bright, full of vividness and intensity. It was a look she’d seen on his face many times, but as she watched it started to flutter before it fell away in place of something akin to surprise. 

He was looking at Thorin.

“Bilbo, look.” Thorin said, outstretching an arm to beckon Bilbo towards him. He was standing in front of the tree, where the breeze ruffled both his thick hair and the brightly coloured leaves until both danced like swans through the air. For a moment, the leaves swept in front of his eyes and obscured him, and a shock of fear permeated the air as the thought of that look disappearing, but then the leaves passed and Thorin was the same. “They’re flying.”

Faintly, she heard a young, carefree voice saying “Thorin, they’re soaring” like it was an echo of something deep in her mind.

She’d never seen Thorin’s eyes so voracious. With that bright tree behind him, they appeared to be brighter than usual, like there was a fire burning behind them. Maybe there was. His eyes seemed full of ambition and vigour and an insatiable type of desire. It was like Bilbo’s commanding ambience had finally swept up Thorin into its midst. It sent her head spinning, but a gentle touch on her hand from Bungo had her head swivelling towards him, where she was met with a reassuring expression that did nothing more and nothing less than quell her wild heartbeat.

“That look-” She said, but she choked on the words, like they wouldn’t come out.

“I know.” Bungo soothed, holding her hand gingerly. He’d always known, hadn’t he? 

When she glanced back at her precious child, he was pressed against Thorin’s side, watching as leaves fell around them in a bright shower of orange. Bilbo was holding both of Thorin’s hands in his own, and peeking out from his winter scarf was a smile so soft and warm it startled Belladonna. They were intimately close, and for the first time she was unable to mistake their closeness for anything other than undying devotion. 

Bilbo had always been destined from greatness. From the moment he was born, from that very first pitched cry, to the moment Belladonna watched him now, she’d known he would do something tremendously wonderful.

If only she’d realised that he’d been doing it all along.

At thirty-four years of age, Bilbo Baggins and Thorin Oakenshield showed Belladonna a sight so great it became brighter than the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This was difficult to write, but I'm thankful for all the support I received, it's meant a lot! This is the first chaptered story I've ever finished, so I'm pleased to have it complete~
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it ❤


End file.
